It's so hard to tell. 1932 redux has its own set of fears. Both my parents were depression kids. The taste of poverty, to me, is the flavor of the salad dressings we ate while I was growing up. Mom would use pickle juice to eke the last little scrapings out of mayonaise, mustard, and/or ketchup jars.

In its favor, the country pulled together rather than apart (for the most part), and that would make it a nice change from the barricades and projectiles of 1848 or 1968.

I distrust Obama for no reason I can put my finger on. I've always said I prefer eloquence to the grammar free (and content free) stylings of either Bush, so I don't think it's that. Nor do I think it's racial, although I'm trying to dig deep and excavate on that subject. If it comes to Obama or McCain, no question, I vote for Obama. But something feels off to me.

Clinton's campaign is terrible. And fish stink from the head. But. Her specificity appeals to me. I feel like I know what I'll get and that she's thought it through. On the other hand, the pettiness is really beginning to get to me.

As I've said in other contexts, the political junkie in me wants to see a brokered convention. Then I remember the last one was 1968.