I’m eating a bagel with cinnamon and sugar cream cheese, and of course, both dogs are attached to my side, totally focused on the bagel. Their eyes are intent, their expressions pitiful. Clearly, cruel mistress that I am, I have never before fed these dogs in their whole lives. Omigawd, they tell me, tails wagging hopefully, we’re sooooo hungry! We’re starving, and have never eaten before! No one feeds us!
     While I’m munching my bagel, I’m chatting with Art, sitting in my computer chair, feet up on the arm of the couch. This forms a bridge that Jazz makes use of frequently, and so I don’t really pay attention to her little feet on my legs until she’s sitting on my chest, licking my mouth. “Ack! *sputter!*” Smack smack smack! “My food!” I roar as she scampers back down the bridge of my legs, snickering to herself at her near success. I levy a sharp finger at her. “You do not take the food right out of my mouth! My food!” She fakes penitence, but there’s still a grin on her little doggy face. Meanwhile, Grim sits next to me, head on my leg, drooling all over my jeans, with huge, envying brown eyes staring imploringly up at me. Grim knows the value of patience.
     Yes, they both got a bit of bagel. The brats.
     Cesar Milan: “Dogs don’t have personalities. We humanize them.”
     Cesar? Buddy? You’ve got some good ideas, but about some things, you’re just totally full of shit.
     Anyhow, Rumsfeld resigned and was replaced by Bill Gates, which means we can look forward to some really cool shit in the Iraq war. I can’t wait to see the Microsoft-run ED209s marching through Iraq in tan camouflage, conking out from Blue Screen and sand. Me and a bowl of popcorn watching the war on TV every night! Woohoo!
     What? Oh, Robert Gates. Well, damn. I think we can all agree that Bill would have been a lot cooler.
     Gates, interestingly, serves on the same commission as James Baker, the commission on the Iraq war policy that’s due to come out with a memo here in a few weeks. They memo will basically say, “Hey, y’all fucked up, and totally screwed the pooch in Iraq.” I’m hoping that Gates will bring something resembling strategy and planning to Iraq, and get that colossal clusterfuck moving again.
     Meanwhile, it certainly looks like the Democrats are going to take the Senate, too. The whole thing is now hinging on the race between Webb and Allen, and Webb’s in the lead by seven grand or so. They’ve pretty much declared the election for him, and it sounds like later on this afternoon we’re going to get to hear Allen say “Aw, fuck it, fine. He won.”
     It’s nice. It’s just . . . nice. It feels a bit like watching a ball game where the teams are neck and neck, and your team squeaks it out in the final inning with some phenomenal play, and you’re at home in your living room, screaming yourself hoarse, slopping beer and popcorn all over the carpet. We got it! We won one! It feels strange and unfamiliar. I think it’s . . . hope. I’d better go take some Rolaids — get rid of that before it gets out of hand.
     And in the meantime, I’ve now just blown three hours of perfectly good writing time, so I have to get off this damn thing and get back to work.

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