I’m just gonna be sick.
It’s like this. Clinton wins Pennsylvania, Obama wins North Carolina, nothing much changes, except Obama keeps trying to gain altitude and Clinton keeps hanging onto his ankle. Which keeps them both low and within range of McCain’s guns.
Okay. That’s stretching the metaphor a bit. But, you won the Nobel Prize. You won an Oscar. You won the presidency in 2000 (remember) then threw yourself on your sword for the good of your country (bad move, in retrospect). It’s time for you step down from the mountain, hands outstretched, have the candidates bow before you. Praise Clinton. Lay a glow upon her and call her a great soldier. Then annoint Obama.
Or else…else the Democrats end up with a brokered convention, blood and guts on the floor, superdelegates slipping around, screaming as they fall, delegates bashing away at each other with Obama and Clinton signs, people losing eyes. And they’re all going to panic and try to draft you. Yeah, you. Drag you kicking and screaming back like Michael Corleone. You want that? You want to deal with this ungodly mess George is leaving behind? Total financial collapse? The second Great Depression? The fall of Baghdad? The end of both ice caps? Dogs and cats living together? Hell no! Write another book! Make another movie! Save the world! Save the party and shove Bubba off the stage in the bargain! (C’mon, admit it: how good would that feel?)
You can do it, Al. Else you’re going to end up in Florida again. And that just might really be the sign of the apocalypse.