James Carville said of political battles, “When your opponent is drowning, throw the son of a bitch an anvil.”

That suits my state of mind in these final weeks of this ridiculous presidential campaign I’ve, irrationally, been following obsessively for almost two years.  Early on in the primary season, I was pro-Obama, and not terribly anti-anybody.  Then, with so many others, I came to hate the Clintons’ unscrupulous guts, and putting them in their place took precedence over my once-pure desire to have the Land of Lincolner be the Democratic nominee.

After Bam finally had the nomination wrapped up, I managed to ease into a more positive approach again.  I allowed myself to read Dreams from My Father, which I’d carefully avoided during primary season for fear that the anticipated appreciation for Obama’s mind would intensify my disappointment to some unbearable level if he were to lose (the memoir did not disappoint).

But now, once again, my obsession is driven by my hatred of McCain (and his idiot sidekick).  I’ve succumbed to the very natural instinct that demonizes the enemy.  The realist (pessimist?) in me knows that, even with strong Democratic majorities in both houses of Congress, a President Obama is likely to accomplish little.  Budgetary limitations and entrenched interests will slow that change to the point where it will be difficult to tell whether the thing is moving at all.  The best I’m hoping for is a four-year term where things actually don’t get worse.

So now it’s all about the horse race for me.  Not only must my guy win, the other guy has to be humiliated.  I have a feeling McCain genuinely believes (still) that there’s no way in hell this young punk is gonna beat him.  He’s too self-worshiping to even acknowledge such a possibility.  The greatest pleasure will be seeing the look in his eyes when he realizes that his lifelong dream is destroyed.

My fear is that the Obama campaign, not wanting to do anything that risks upsetting their solid lead in the polls, will play it safe for the next month and try to cruise across the finish line.  If they do, they’re doomed.  McCain’s fists are going to be flying.  His campaign will do whatever it has to do, truth and honor be damned.  The Obama campaign has to hit him HARD.  Now.  While he’s down.  Kick him in the balls, break three ribs and pummel his nose until there’s nothing left but some sandy bits of broken cartilage.

Break him!

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