What the bailout needed three days ago was for someone to go on TV and explain what the plan was and what the risks were for not passing it.
It needed to be done in simple, understandable terms so the American public would have an ida of what was being proposed, why it was necessary and how it could help. 
We didn't get that, so people got scared of it, thinking that it was just helping Wall Street. And since every member of Congress is up for re-election this year, when they heard the criticism, they got worried about their own futures (after all, $165K a year jobs ain't bad).   
I was hoping Obama might take the opportunity to do so during the debates, but that's asking a lot of him. It's a President's job, but a) he can't really make a case for much and b) no one really beleives him anymore anyway. 
So it got lost in the details and the bullet points and pundit-dom, none of who also bothered to spell anything out about the plan.  It would would have been good if a leader -- any leader -- would ahve taken the chance to let us know what was at stake. 

Just curious. I know a troll troll is a someone who comes in and throws out Repub talking points just to cause trouble. But what defines a concern troll? Is is showing a lack of faith in the campaign? or is there a specific pattern of activity -- maybe raising concerns just to raise them?

The term gets thrown about a lot -- just wondering what the popular definition was.

Hey, come on in. Don't worry about it, last night was crazy. Thanks -- I'll set it right over here. I guess tonight is, too. I was tempted to watch, yeah, but I'm a hurricane junkie, so that's taken priority. Galvaston was the site of the nation's worst hurricea, I'm sure you  heard about that during all the coverage, but I read a great book about it a few years ago. So I'm nervous for the people there, and for the refineries and all that stuf, and for the people who left; I'm praying for the people who stayed behind. 
But it's funny how that had me thinking about books. I haven't been writing as much as I want -- chaos in my persaonl life, mostly. But the other problem is the story that comes bext, I don't know how it begins. You've got to lead strong, I've always thought, or people won't give you much of a read. I've got two favorite beginings. The first is Richard Bach -- remember when he was relavent? "We think sometimes ther's not a dragon left, not one brave knight, no princesses walking through enchanted forest. ... "What a pleasure to be wrong." The book quickly disintegrates from there. 
The other, though, and my all time favorite entry. Tom Robbins. "If this typewriter can't do it, then fuck it, it can't be done." That one has gotten me started more times than I can count. 
So I know youve' got a favorite book or two,m the kind that gets inside of you, pull syou in with the first sentence. I'd like to know about it.  Tell me, how does it start?. 

Hi. Nice of you to stop by. I appreciate it -- don' t think I say that often enough. Nice to see a smiling and friendly face today. 
I wasn't around much -- mostly childcare and parks and such, so I didn't get much of a look at the place. But froim what I can see, there's something missing. 
I can't tell you how much I look forward to the chance to relax here at the end of the day, imagining meals and conversation and a chance to hang aound with some interesting people, letting them know and fearing myself that there is value in pleasant conversation. 
Here's your drink. Of course I remember. Wouldn't be much of an inkeeper if I didn't. And it's important to remember,. Expecially in the last hours of this day. I was in the shower when I heard, when my wife told me that a plane had flown into the towers. Didn't think too much of it untl the second one surged like a shark, and at that moment it felt like the world was much different than it had been. I went to work and found the family room of my model filled with superintendent and subs and anyone who would fit. I remember the chaos and the wondering if anything would ever, really be the same again, and then all of us trying to shimmy a flag pole to get the flags to half staff. My old bosses wife's best freind called her from the 104th floor to say goodbye. 
We owe ourselves our memory of those events that changed things. We need not look back in horror or even grief, but I think it's important to all of us, especially because of what it has meant to our party and our world. And as much as I hate to make this place anything but light and breezy, tonight, I just don't feel it appropriate. So, instead, I just want to ask this,. When it happened, where were you?

Hey. Good to see you. Thanks, that looks great. Right there is fine. What do you want to drink? Really? Okay, I can get that for you. She says maybe next week. We'll see. Mesage board insanity foesn't seem to be getting much better, does it? Oh well. 
I am a little more perky tonight. I don't know why. I worked out this morning -- not much of one, but when the boys got up at 5-ish, I took them for a walk instead of just hanging around watching Joe and Mika. Got my Ipod out of the car and loaded them in the stroller and headed out. Did about two miles, not bad. Knee hurt a little bit, but otherwise it was a pretty good walk. So maybe that's it. 
I ought to do it more often. As you can see, I'm a pretty big guy. Always have been. I used to be a lot bigger, then a lot smaller, and now I'm about halfway there. When I was losing weight -- a total of 120 pounds or so -- I was a crazy workout person. At one point I was doing 200 flights of stairs on the machine, or doing a fast four miles on the treadmill and high incline. It was a great rush, getting so sore you didn't think you could do another instant. But then the boys came and time all went away, and I got tired and and I got lazy. So it goes. But now I think I might be onto something. Not because of the health stuff, because that's up to each of us as we want, but because a workout, usually, makes us take time to focus on something else, be it the song playing, the book you're reading or the twinge in your legs.We all need that time, I think, to be forced to focus on something else. I've missed it -- going to make an effort to keep it up.  
Enough about me and my one-day regimine. How about you, when you need to think or relax or feel energized --and I'm not just talking about physical stuff, but mental, too. How do you stretch your muscles or test your minf.  Tell me my good friend, how do you workout?

Hey, good to see you.Can I get you a drink? Just a second.  Getting kind of interesting out there, isn't it? A lot of madness going around, and a whole lot of frustration. I feel it too, trust me. Of course, mine is mostly because this souflee I spent the day getting ready didn't quite rise. Such is the life of the amatuer, and, well, frankly, not so good chef. 
I just spent the last hour or so watching a tape of my dad's second wedding, about 21 years ago. Big giant out of control affair. 
I realized that I had the video, and that it had been almost eight years since I had heard his voice, so I found a VCR and played it. The man could give a speech -- as natural in front of an audience as anyone you could have seen in Denver a couple of weeks ago. I forgot that he pronounced it Warshington. I had forgotten how he turned a phrase, how he knew how to wait for the laughter to fade, how he knew how to hit a point and move on, how he sounded. I watched it because I realized today that he was the same age there as I am now, but I remembered him much older. I wanted to see how he moved, how natural he was, whether he seemed easier in his skin than I do. And he did, but not as much as I mythologize. That's probably a good thing to remember. 

And as I watched him, I realized how our lives often run paralell with our parents, even when we don't notice it, how our lives get shaped without much effort. The pacing and lexicon I use is not as original as I think it is, sometimes. Maybe there's some comfort in that. I don't know, but iknow that those are some of the things are the things that directed me to the place I am now. 
Sorry about that rant -- not what you signed up for tonight. Want some very dense souflee to make up for it? Cool. There you go. So tell me, where you are in your life right now, how did you get here?

Hey. Sorry I'm late. Pretty stinking tired today, and that's with paying almost no attention to the news of the day. I guess it seems like a sky is alling kind of day -- it sure felt that way here in denver. Gloomy, with a single cloud draped from horizon to horizon, a bit of light light drizzle and a far too cold breeze most of the day. I guess we had some bad polling news, too. To be expected, but kind of scary, even 56 days out. 
Maybe this is the what things have to be foir now. You can't make an omlette, so they say... Speaking of omlettes, I know what will cheer everyone up -- instead of the usual, we're doing a breakfast bar in here tonight. Mimosas instead of beer, I'll get the waffle iron going. it will be alike a late night trip to Ihop without the defeated-looking waitress. Here are some strawbherries -- I've go some blackberries, too. Sure I can make pancakes, if you don't mind it made from mix -- no baking powder around here. Sox must have ate it. Something neat about breakfast foods late in the night, the taste buds running into unfamiliar molecules after the sun goes down. Even if everything is familiar, the chanve of scenery and chornology's not a bad idea.
Okay, the griddles's hot, biscuits are almost out of the oven. I've got the eggs setting there in the pan. So tell me, it's your omlette. What do you like in there?

Hey there, glad you didn't knock. I'm still getting the stuff out for tonight, and I coiuld use a hand if you've go a few minutes. I know I've kind been overserving a bit, I think, but what the hell, preparing a spread is one of the great things in life and party planning. The way everything sets out, the way you can put together a palate have it all fit together. I don't know what anyone else is bringing, but no one ever disappoints around here. Great cooks and chefs and scavengers all, and it's fun to see it all laid out, piece by piece. 
Coming together is an interesting phenomenon. Sometimes, even when it doesn't work, greatness can come from the attempt. For example, there was a lamented television show called Sports Night, Aaron Sorkin's first foray into being a show runner. While a lot of people loved it, I never thought it had the right tone, never knew exactly what it wanted to be. Anyway, as it was ending Sorkin produced one of his best ideas, that the most important thing we can ask ourselves is "Where are we going?" The more often we ask ourselves that, especially at our turning points, the better of wen end up. I don't know about any of that -- I've asked the question to myself a lot. it's not the question that's important this time, I'm afraid. it's the answer. 
Here's your drink. Yeah, I think thsat turned out okay. Still gave me great advice for filling in for Melissa last night -- she said the key is to answer the question first. But, buddy, I've got to tell you, I have no idea. So I'm gonna ask you, in case you have a better idea than me -- or heck, even a better destination. So tell me, where are you going? 

Hi, cmon in.  Sorry the place is a mess tonight, but let me get you a drink. I know she never things untidy. Hopefully she'll be back before toomuch longer. Oh thanks, that will go great with the rest of the stuff I've been thinking og making, but haven't gotten around to it. Happens that way sometimes. One of the boys slipped and hit his head on a door hinge, and started gushing blood -- nothing scarier than a baby with a bloody face. No big deal, three stickes, but he'll look like a junior Frankenstein for a while. But the beloved Gators just finished off the hated Hurricanes, so all is fundementally right in the world. I talk about football a lot, and that's because I've got a real affection for the game for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I like the undisciplined emotion of fandom. It requires nothing of you other than to cheer. Kind of like that first time falling in love, you know, the one that didn't really stick, but the one that mostly brings a smile to your face. I'v got one of those -- heck, don't we all -- whose memory brings a whistful smile and maybe, just maybe, a twinge of regret.  I can see that smile on your face you're thinking about someone. We all have one. 
Okay, here's your drink. I'm gonna plop down here for the time being. Ah, that's nice. All right now, fess up.  Who was it that brought on that smile?

Hi, cmon in.  Sorry the place is a mess tonight, but let me get you a drink. I know she never things untidy. Hopefully she'll be back before toomuch longer. Oh thanks, that will go great with the rest of the stuff I've been thinking og making, but haven't gotten around to it. Happens that way sometimes. One of the boys slipped and hit his head on a door hinge, and started gushing blood -- nothing scarier than a baby with a bloody face. No big deal, three stickes, but he'll look like a junior Frankenstein for a while. But the beloved Gators just finished off the hated Hurricanes, so all is fundementally right in the world. I talk about football a lot, and that's because I've got a real affection for the game for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I like the undisciplined emotion of fandom. It requires nothing of you other than to cheer. Kind of like that first time falling in love, you know, the one that didn't really stick, but the one that mostly brings a smile to your face. I'v got one of those -- heck, don't we all -- whose memory brings a whistful smile and maybe, just maybe, a twinge of regret.  I can see that smile on your face you're thinking about someone. We all have one. 
Okay, here's your drink. I'm gonna plot down here for the time being. Ah, that's nice. All right now, fess up.  Who was it that brought on that smile?

I know this is a loaded question, because of all the animosity in the primaries and our collective reunion during the convention. But, now that Palin is picked and seems to be, at the very least, an evil phenomon, is anyone else mad at the Obama campaign for not putting HRC on the ticket? 
With HRC as the Democratic VP, Pailn dosn't happen. McCain picks Romney or Pawlenty or Leiberman and the Rs go through a boring, unwatchable ane unexciting convention and move into a serious, conventional campaign. By leaving the window open, the Obama campaign left a card on the table. Are a lot of HRC supporters going to back mccain/PALIN? Probably not. But there may be some who are impressed wiht her spunk and still carry resentment towards BO. 
But more importantly, and as much as we've had fun patting ourselves on the back about how bad she is, the base loves her. She's the overwhelming favorite to be their next nominee, whether it's in four years or eight. Listen to them talk -- she's the future of the Party. She's got the kind of kick-ass, Constitution-be-damned, U-S-A mentality and demanor that their base loves and leaners nod approvingly at. For every youth that Obama mobilized, there's another one listening to Keith Urban's latest diatribe, waiting to sign up for Sarah -- she's already first-name with them. 
We're watching her scandals, hoping one of them sticks. But they won't, because the country won't care about them, and even if they do, all can be explained by the same mentality. If Trig really is the daughter's baby, is anyone going to condemn her for raising her special-needs grandson, and then tryng to cover it up to make life easier for all concerned? Say Troopergate shows something -- they'll just say she was watching out for her sister -- whose husband tasered their son -- taking things into her own hands because she could. She won't talk to the press?  They'll say who could blame her after what they put her through the week after her selection. She fibs about her record -- they'll say, basically, who doesn't? And she'll be out there, with her barbs and her zingers and her small-fucking-town sensibility, and enough people will eat it up until she's in charge of everything. 
Joe Biden is a good man. He'll, hopefully, make a great Vice President. It was always going to be a tight election. But we're in a dogfight now, not just for the presidency, but for the soul of the country. This person and what she represents has been unleashed on us, and didn't have to be. HRC on the ticket keeps Palin in Alaskan obscurity. She could never have run a national campaign from there. But now ... she's the future of the Repulican party.  
And, I gotta tell you, that makes me a little mad. 

Hey there. Sorry about last night -- I tried, but you know how it's been lately. Too bad, too, I thought it was a pretty good idea, but it was mostly me sitting around talking to myself. Melissa would not be impressed, I know. I think somewhere Sox is growling at me.

Enough about that, now. I made my dad's rum punch -- mostly coconut rum and pineaple juice, but there's a little bit more mixed in thee too. If you're not into that, there's some wine from the Dordogne region of France. I'd say it was my favorite part of France, but aside from a couple of days in Paris, it's the only place I've spent any real time. Pretty, though. Over the top pretty. Castles and rivers and rolling green hills. I stayed in the barn of a farmhouse and had magnificent meals and even took an overnight on the TVG, with people yelling "fermez le porte!!" at me. But it was the kind of place that stays with you, gets inside your head, comes back to you in your dreams, or in those nights when you just happen to be up too late.

Enough about that. Here's a glass of wine from a vinyard I found there. Hope you like it. Now tell me, what's the place you most remember -- where have you been?   

Hey there. Sorry about last night -- I tried, but you know how it's been lately. Too bad, too, I thought it was a pretty good idea, but it was mostly me sitting around talking to myself. Melissa would not be impressed, I know. I think somewhere Sox is growling at me.

Enough about that, now. I made my dad's rum punch -- mostly coconut rum and pineaple juice, but there's a little bit more mixed in thee too. If you're not into that, there's some wine from the Dordogne region of France. I'd say it was my favorite part of France, but aside from a couple of days in Paris, it's the only place I've spent any real time. Pretty, though. Over the top pretty. Castles and rivers and rolling green hills. I stayed in the barn of a farmhouse and had magnificent meals and even took an overnight on the TVG, with people yelling "fermez le porte!!" at me. But it was the kind of place that stays with you, gets inside your head, comes back to you in your dreams, or in those nights when you just happen to be up too late.

Enough about that. Here's a glass of wine from a vinyard I found there. Hope you like it. Now tell me, what's the place you most remember -- where have you been?   

Hey there. Sorry about last night -- I tried, but you know how it's been lately. Too bad, too, I thought it was a pretty good idea, but it was mostly me sitting around talking to myself. Melissa would not be impressed, I know. I think somewhere Sox is growling at me.

Enough about that, now. I made my dad's rum punch -- mostly coconut rum and pineaple juice, but there's a little bit more mixed in thee too. If you're not into that, there's some wine from the Dordogne region of France. I'd say it was my favorite part of France, but aside from a couple of days in Paris, it's the only place I've spent any real time. Pretty, though. Over the top pretty. Castles and rivers and rolling green hills. I stayed in the barn of a farmhouse and had magnificent meals and even took an overnight on the TVG, with people yelling "fermez le porte!!" at me. But it was the kind of place that stays with you, gets inside your head, comes back to you in your dreams, or in those nights when you just happen to be up too late.

Enough about that. Here's a glass of wine from a vinyard I found there. Hope you like it. Now tell me, what's the place you most remember -- where have you been?   

Hey there. Sorry about last night -- I tried, but you know how it's been lately. Too bad, too, I thought it was a pretty good idea, but it was mostly me sitting around talking to myself. Melissa would not be impressed, I know. I think somewhere Sox is growling at me.

Enough about that, now. I made my dad's rum punch -- mostly coconut rum and pineaple juice, but there's a little bit more mixed in thee too. If you're not into that, there's some wine from the Dordogne region of France. I'd say it was my favorite part of France, but aside from a couple of days in Paris, it's the only place I've spent any real time. Pretty, though. Over the top pretty. Castles and rivers and rolling green hills. I stayed in the barn of a farmhouse and had magnificent meals and even took an overnight on the TVG, with people yelling "fermez le porte!!" at me. But it was the kind of place that stays with you, gets inside your head, comes back to you in your dreams, or in those nights when you just happen to be up too late.

Enough about that. Here's a glass of wine from a vinyard I found there. Hope you like it. Now tell me, what's the place you most remember -- where have you been?