When asked why Sen. Clinton would propose that Sen. Obama be her VP since she had earlier indicated he had not "crossed the threshold to be CIC," Wolfson stated that Clinton felt Obama "has not passed the CIC test yet. But there is a long way between now and Denver.”

Learning of this timeline, Obama has now registered to attend a well-known CIC preparation camp in northern Minnesota in July.  Popular activities include the Threshold-passing potato sack race, the Leader-of-the-Free-World  wilderness trail hike (3-day and 5-day options available), and the Red Phone trust test, in which campers must answer a cell phone (red) while riding a zip line.

"I am totally pumped about going to camp!" said Obama. "I'm especially looking forward to the evening campfire skits, for which I’m taking along the Somalian garb featured in the Drudge Report.”

I’ve watched the Lady MacHillary drama unfold with a mixture of anger and pain. Anger at her for all she is doing to hurt the Democratic party and to hurt our chances of electing an extraordinary president in Barack Obama.  Pain because, like her, I was married to a charming man up until 12 years ago – and I felt first-hand how that can eat into your soul.

I’m not talking about just your average nice guy, but that glad-hander sort who can work a room like nobody’s business, making each person he talks to feel like he showed up that night especially for him/her. The kind of guy who, as a friend of mine puts it, sucks all the air out of the room.  Leaving none for the spouse.

When you’re hitched to a charmer like this, though in your own right you might once have been known as a fun-loving spirit, you may over time become by default the un-fun person -- the sober, strained adult in the scenario. Because somebody has to make all the arrangements for the party and corral the kids and wipe up the ashtray the charmer just overturned on the white sofa while he was acting out that side-splitting story.

You become accustomed to hearing people tell you enthusiastically as they leave the party, “Your husband is such a great guy, such a hoot!”  When you kinda hoped they’d say “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

And over time, you get resentful of charm. Just to keep on your feet, you gradually change your belief system. Your internal mantra becomes that being the hard-working, wonky “adult,” which is the person you’ve become, is the more – well, the more adult way to be. 

And if you discover that your spouse has been charming his way into the beds of various (undoubtedly more fun and younger) fillies than yourself and you decide to stick with him, then your resentment grows closer to hate.

And that hate spreads beyond the one charmer you’re married to … it attaches to all other charmers out there.  Even if they are the sort of men who, while being socially charming, will also help corral the kids and clear the dishes, and will stay faithful to their wives.

And if you decide to run for president and your main competitors turn out to be two guys named John and Barack --  cute, personable, can work a room like nobody’s business --  hmmm, you put your head down and repeat your personal mantra daily: “They are charming. Being adult is better; I am the adult; this time, it is the adult’s turn to win.” 

And all those years of hurt and anger and resentment give you extraordinary internal fuel to do whatever, whatever, whatever it takes to win the nomination – because hell hath no fury like a woman charmed.