Margery Eagan, at the Boston Herald, is getting nervous about the whole Obama thing.
Iâ€™m an Obama girl and my man throttled Hillary Clinton, again, Tuesday night.
Suddenly, the impossible is real.
Suddenly, Iâ€™m nervous. Very nervous, actually.
Iâ€™m nervous because an otherwise normal grownup told me yesterday sheâ€™s watched the will.i.am (Black Eyed Peas) â€œYes We Canâ€ Obama video about 100 times and gets â€œweepyâ€ every time.
Iâ€™m nervous because a longtime political type, normally quite cynical, now waxes rhapsodic about Obamaâ€™s â€œcool.â€
â€œHeâ€™s elegant, controlled, the best-dressed candidate ever,â€ he says. Never a red tie, yellow or bright blue. No, Obama does a subdued lean charcoal gray suit with a gray or silvery tie. Everything muted, measured, fluid. â€œHe floats onto the stage, a bit of the Fred Astaire thing going.â€
This same man, 100 percent anti-illegal aliens, fears Obama could pull a Reagan or a JFK on the Mexican border, head down there, chanting, â€œTear down this wall!â€ or even do an â€œIch bin ein Tijuana! ! !â€
Heâ€™s with Obama anyway.
Iâ€™m nervous because Harvard political genius Elaine Kamarck told me Hillary understands the various messes weâ€™re in far better than Obama.
Suppose Kamarckâ€™s right?
Iâ€™m nervous about the â€œOâ€™Bambiâ€ factor. Will the terrorists move in next door when Obamaâ€™s in the White House?
Iâ€™m nervous because Michelle Obama, about whom I just wrote a fawning puff piece, now says that until her husbandâ€™s stunning ascendancy, sheâ€™s never before been proud of America. Huh?
Barack now claims she didnâ€™t mean it. Oh, yes she did. We all know the insufferable, holier-than-thou, Blame-America-First types who lecture the unwashed from the rarefied air of Cambridge and Brookline.
If I wanted lecturing, Iâ€™d be with Hillary.
Iâ€™m nervous because too many Obama-philes sound like Moonies, or Hare Krishnas, or the Hale-Bopp-Is-Coming-To-Get-Me nuts.
These true believers â€œObama-izeâ€ everything. They speak Obama-ese. Knit for Obama. Run for Obama. Gamble – Hold â€™Em Barack! – for Obama. They make Obama cakes, underwear, jewelry. They send Valentine cards reading, â€œI want to Barack your world!â€
At campaign rallies people scream, cry, even faint as Obama calmly calls for the EMTs. When supporters pant en masse, â€œI love you!â€ (like The Beatles, circa 1964), Barack says, â€œI love you backâ€ with that deliciously charming, almost cocky smile.
Oh – Iâ€™m nervous because itâ€™s all gone to his head and he hasnâ€™t even won yet.
Iâ€™m nervous because itâ€™s gone to a lot of other peopleâ€™s heads as well. Maryland Congressman Elijah Cummings introduced Obama last week in Baltimore and said, â€œThis is not a campaign for president of the United States, this is a movement to change the world.â€
â€œHe walks into a room and you want to follow him somewhere, anywhere,â€ says George Clooney.
â€œIâ€™ll do whatever he says to do,â€ says actress Halle Berry. â€œIâ€™ll collect paper cups off the ground to make his pathway clear.â€
Iâ€™m nervous because nobodyâ€™s quite sure what Obama stands for, even his supporters. (â€œI canâ€™t wait to see,â€ said actress/activist Susan Sarandon, declaring full support nonetheless).
Iâ€™m nervous because even his biggest fans canâ€™t name Obamaâ€™s accomplishments, including Texas state Sen. Kirk Watson, an Obama-man who humiliated himself when MSNBCâ€™s Chris Matthews asked him about five times to name something, anything, Obamaâ€™s done. Watson hemmed. Watson hawed. Watson gave up.
Iâ€™m nervous because John McCain says Obamaâ€™s is â€œan eloquent but empty call for changeâ€ and in the wee, wee hours, a nagging voice whispers, suppose McCainâ€™s right, too? Then what?
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