The Writer I Want To Be When I Grow Up

Mark Morford, telling it:

Do you allow yourself, even now, to feel any sort of ongoing, relieved, merciful joy that Barack Obama actually is sitting in the Big Chair in the White House? That this elegant, articulate, Zen-like man whose integrity is rock-solid and whose ideas, while certainly not in perfect alignment with every ultra-lefty vision on the planet (clean coal? Please), are astonishingly ambitious and brave, is leading this nation during one of the worst economic times in its short and paroxysmal history?

Or do you say whatever, sorry, no time for that. Everything’s plummeting and jobs are dying and (in my case, certainly) the industry you’ve worked for your entire career is gasping its last breath, and therefore, melancholy and dread and panic are the only truly appropriate responses, because I don’t care how great the guy is, any smile that might cross my face when I see him gets immediately wiped out as soon as I ponder my 401k?