It is my fault. I should not have commented at all on Nancy Pelosi, since I know much less about her than Jerry Fresia, for instance. I got up at 5 yesterday, drove to the airport at 6, got to Columbia [what with delays and all] at 11:30, saw Todd for a quick lunch, held office hours, taught for two hours, headed back to the airport, and was in bed again by 11:30. All in all, an eighteen and a half hour day, which at eighty-four takes it out of me. I don’t want to argue. I want to see the new young progressive House members maneuver successfully for the sorts of committee assignments that will enable them to write progressive legislation, legislation that will probably not become law now, but may lay down a marker for the future. I want Mueller to get off his butt and have his Grand Jury indict someone, preferably someone related by birth or marriage to Trump. I want Mike Espy to win his runoff, I want those missing in the California fires to turn up safe, I want the children kidnapped by our government reunited with their parents. I want something good to happen, so that I can sleep at night.
Like Lili von Shtupp played by the inimitable Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles, I am tired.