Mindless Philosopher

I saw the Gov give his concession speech in Madison, WI. I think TV cut away to Edwards, so you probably missed the end, where Dean instructed us to “Never give up, never give up, never give up.” And I don’t intend to. The values and issues we were fighting for are much bigger than one candidacy.
Now that I’m no longer employed by Dean For America, a couple things can change on this blog. First, hopefully the frequency of posts will increase–back to once every two days (which was the norm at one point if you can believe). Second, I can speak freely about the campaign. Thus I start off with two points of analysis.
One, we shouldn’t and can’t blame the media for our loss. The media may not have liked us as much (which was probably somewhat a function of us not liking them), but the media is what it is and we knew that going in. As much as we tried new things on this campaign, sometimes you just have to play by the rules. And the rules include looking good on TV for earned media, creating good advertisements for paid media, and “sucking up” to reporters. Blaming the media is akin to a sports team blaming the ref; it doesn’t make help you win the next time.
Two, Karen Hicks, the New Hampshire state director, rocks my world. She cultivated and created an incredible team in NH. Similar to Confucius’s “deliberate tradition,” Karen created a deliberate culture of honestly, loyalty, integrity and teamwork. As she says, we were handed a very hot potato after Iowa, and it’s a testament to the months we spent on the ground that no one challengesd us for second place on Election Day. Without a doubt, it is more likely than not that she will someday manage a Presidential campaign; when that time comes, I will gladly drop everything and work my tail off for her.
Oh, and let the Gary Locke for VP campaign begin.
Good night all; I’ll be heading east to NH tomorrow. Past that, who knows: but I’ll keep you updated when someone does.

Visited Dawn in CT for Christmas Eve. They have a family get-together each year, and the tradition is for one of the adults to dress like Santa and give out presents to all the kiddies (from their aunts and uncles). The trick is for Santa not to be one of the parents, ensuring that the younger kids are fooled. So, as luck would have it, I was volunteered for the position of lying to all the four-year-olds that there was this fat man that lived in the North Pole who distributed presents by falling down chimneys. Well, except instead of just perpetuating this myth, I have to actually be the main character.
I put on the costume with ease, but had a little trouble with the belly stuffing. The only way to keep gravity from taking hold of the stuffing was to place it half down my large, red pants. Yeah, that made for a real convincing Santa. Especially when my calculator watch peeked out.
With my costume on, I snuck out the back to enter in the front with the obligatory ringing of the jingle bells and “Ho, Ho, Ho, Merrrrry Christmas,” in my best Santa voice (which sounds a little too like my Strong Bad voice). Made a joke about there being no food left for me to eat, sat down and started distributing presents. I attempted to make jokes about my naughty/nice list (to encourage the Christian tradition of, as John Irving put it, “goodness by bribery”). Only problem: no one laughed. Well, I’ve dealt with tough crowds before, so no sweat. But then….it happens.
I’m done distributing gifts when Aunt Joy, socialite extraodinaire, suggests that Santa lead us in a song or two. “Great,” I think to myself, “I know Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel; want me to sing that one, Joy?!” But, no, it becomes worse when Joy, sensing my indecisiveness suggests “Jiggle Bells.” Easy, right? Not when you were scarred for life in 2nd grade by that song. I quickly avert the panic attack by enlisting Dawn to lead in singing while I “go distribute presents to the little girls and boys at my next stop, the south.”
Phew, done. Take off costume, and give the Peter Faulk “Yes, yes, you’re very smart” to all the 10-year-olds that figured out that I was Santa. Oy vey; I’m not doing that ever again–next year in Jerusalem (or the White House)!

Bit of a hiatus there: I hope to be able to blog regularly as the Primary approcahes. Spent last weekend in Florida for my cousin Samantha’s Bat Mitzvah. A few interesting stories to share.
My father called me over to introduce me to this guy who mentioned Howard Dean. Apparently, the fact that certain people are “wackos” is lost of my Dad. This man, who smelled and was a “close talker” (almost) literally chewed my ear off about Howard Dean for 10 minutes. I finally got away and told my Dad “If you do that again, you’re out of the will.”
Southwest Airlines has this new policy of having the flight attendants tell jokes. Here are some classics:
[Pre-flight]
“We don’t anticipate a change in cabin pressure during the flight, but if one occurs, oxygen masks will drop from the compartment above. The oxygen is 15 cents for the first minute, and 10 cents a minute after that. As always, correct change is appreciated.”
“If you are traveling with a small child, put your mask on first, and then place the mask on your child. If you are traveling with two or more children, pick your favorite.”
“Seat belts should be worn like mini-skirts: low and tight.”
“It is against Federal regulations to smoke on this flight, even in our port-o-potties. If you insist on smoking, we’ll put you out on the wing where you can light up at 500mph and enjoy our in-flight movie of ‘Gone with the Wind.’ We’d just appreciate it if you came back in for the landing.”
OR
“It is against Federal regulations to smoke on a flight; in fact, it is a $2000 fine. If you’d like to pay $2000 for a ticket to Manchester, try USAir.”
“In the event our flight becomes a cruise from Orlando to Ft Lauderdale, your seat cushion can be used as a floatation device. Put your arms in the red straps and kick, kick, paddle, paddle all the way to shore. In case the giant squid attacks, don’t worry, the flight attendants will fight them off with beer and peanuts.”
“And finally, please folks, don’t sweat the petty stuff. … Or vice-versa.”
[And then at the end of the flight]
“If you have a Southwest connecting flight at BWI please check the TV monitors for departure information. If you have a connecting flight with another company, we just don’t care.”
“When we reach the gate, the captain turning off the seat belt sign will be your one and only indication to get up, hit your head on the ceiling and go absolutely nowhere until we open the door.”
“Please be careful when retrieving your bags from the overhead bin; remember, shift happens.”