At least in a text message.
In delicious irony the Obama campaign apparently scrambled to get out the word that the pick was Biden after it leaked to the media -- sending out their much anticipated text message announcement at 3 a.m.
You remember 3 a.m.? Hillary does.
I'm happy with the pick -- Biden struck me as a pragmatist on Iraq and seems to have his eyes fixed on U.S. security interests in the region. I've been arguing to my Republican friends (and yes, I have them) that Obama is a pragmatist. The Biden pick reconfirms that.
Biden, the Senator from Delaware, commutes from home to DC on Amtrak. I've seen him on the Metroliner. I like that.
But what's up with Yahoo? The headline on the Yahoo email login page this morning was "Biden pick a sign of weakness." Add that to my growing list of reasons to abandon my Yahoo email account.
Showing posts with label 3 a.m.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 3 a.m.. Show all posts
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Chelsea Clinton and the Combat Zone
Assume, for a moment, that Hillary Clinton spoke the truth about dodging sniper fire in Bosnia (I know, the very thought of linking "truth" and "Clinton" requires a suspension of disbelief).
What rational parent would take their minor child into a combat zone to face sniper fire?
Forget about those sleeping kids at 3 a.m. -- does Hillary have enough horse sense to keep her own daughter safe?
What rational parent would take their minor child into a combat zone to face sniper fire?
Forget about those sleeping kids at 3 a.m. -- does Hillary have enough horse sense to keep her own daughter safe?
Friday, April 11, 2008
Bill Clinton: Hillary too senile for 3 a.m.
Bill Clinton is supposed to be one of the most seasoned politicians, like since Caesar but you couldn't prove it from his behavior in his wife's campaign. He hurt her with his misstatements and racially charged comments in South Carolina. Last month his wife "misspoke" about being under sniper fire instead of attending a welcoming ceremony in Bosnia, a "misstatement" easily shown to be wrong when video emerged of her being greeted by a little girl at the airport, politicians and army brass. Leave it to the Clintons to elevate a misstatement into a self-serving lie.
The media derision of that lie (sorry, I misspoke, I meant misstatement) has subsided, so why is master politician Bill Clinton bringing it up again? In Indiana he mentions it in a speech, and says:
Yes, we saw it.
Okay, she was tired and it was late at night. Only, it wasn't -- it was actually a mid-morning speech. I guess it depends on what the definition of "time" is. Not to mention the fact that she made this "misstatement" on more than one occasion.
If bringing the whole thing up was mistake one, misstating the facts was mistake two, mistake three was the excuse Bill gave for her: she was too tired and aged to it right. He says (of reporters):
Crisis in the world? 3 a.m. anyone? Geritol?
The media derision of that lie (sorry, I misspoke, I meant misstatement) has subsided, so why is master politician Bill Clinton bringing it up again? In Indiana he mentions it in a speech, and says:
"But there was a lot of fulminating because Hillary, one time late at night when she was exhausted, misstated and immediately apologized for it, what happened to her in Bosnia in 1995. Did y'all see all that.
Yes, we saw it.
Okay, she was tired and it was late at night. Only, it wasn't -- it was actually a mid-morning speech. I guess it depends on what the definition of "time" is. Not to mention the fact that she made this "misstatement" on more than one occasion.
If bringing the whole thing up was mistake one, misstating the facts was mistake two, mistake three was the excuse Bill gave for her: she was too tired and aged to it right. He says (of reporters):
And some of them when they're 60 they'll forget something when they're tired at 11:00 at night, too."
Crisis in the world? 3 a.m. anyone? Geritol?
Sunday, March 09, 2008
A Call at 3 A.M
My mother, as I have said earlier, is here visiting. We spent Saturday, the last day of her visit, in Old Town Alexandria, touring the sites (some I'd never been to, like the Carlye House and Gatsby's Tavern (where we were given a tour by cute-in-a-geeky-sort of way Josh) and eating too much at the Chart House. The LTR made baked pterodactyl (a.k.a. a large oven-roaster chicken) for a good send off feast. We ended the evening by watching the Bourne Identity (and all I could think of while watching it is "I'm f***ing Matt Damon").
Much later, it was 3 a.m. My mom was safe and soundly asleep in the guest bed while the LTR and I slumbered peacefully above.
The phone rang.
I sat bolt upright in bed.
It kept ringing.
"Hillary?" I cried. But she was no where in sight. Damn. I'll have to answer the phone myself.
It was my father. Mom's flight was canceled (the airline called my mom's cell phone, which, by logic only understood by my parents, was with my dad).
3 a.m. A phone call and a problem. And we were Hillary-less. We had to take matters into our own hands.
Luckily, I have experience in dealing with middle-of-the-night crisis. When I was little, I often spent the night at my grandparents and my grandpa was county engineer, which meant he was in charge of the roads. In the winter, this often meant getting phone calls at 3 a.m. as road conditions deteriorated and he would have to send the road crews out and coordinate their activities. Many times I would lay there and listen as he spent the night on the phone, in his pajamas with my grandmother wringing her hands at his side as he made the county safe.
With all that experience of nighttime phone call handling tucked under my belt, I knew I had crossed the crisis management threshold and had been ready since day one of my mom's visit, I took the phone in hand. I expertly called the airline and waited on hold for an agent. I'm vetted, I told myself as I waited, phone in hand and glasses perched on the edge of my nose, giving me an aura of Clintonesque competence to my mother.
Once the agent got on the phone I fought for my mother to get her on another flight. I took on the vast flight wing conspiracy to keep my mom in DC for another day. We need solutions, not excuses I told the agent. After all "Your flight is canceled" are just words. Thanks to my experience, the agent came through and we booked my mom on another flight. I have the scars to prove it.
Yes, thanks to my experience in handling middle of the night crisis from those years I spent at my grandparent's house, my mom is on her way to rejoin my dad.
I think I should be county engineer. Hell, make that a pilot.
Much later, it was 3 a.m. My mom was safe and soundly asleep in the guest bed while the LTR and I slumbered peacefully above.
The phone rang.
I sat bolt upright in bed.
It kept ringing.
"Hillary?" I cried. But she was no where in sight. Damn. I'll have to answer the phone myself.
It was my father. Mom's flight was canceled (the airline called my mom's cell phone, which, by logic only understood by my parents, was with my dad).
3 a.m. A phone call and a problem. And we were Hillary-less. We had to take matters into our own hands.
Luckily, I have experience in dealing with middle-of-the-night crisis. When I was little, I often spent the night at my grandparents and my grandpa was county engineer, which meant he was in charge of the roads. In the winter, this often meant getting phone calls at 3 a.m. as road conditions deteriorated and he would have to send the road crews out and coordinate their activities. Many times I would lay there and listen as he spent the night on the phone, in his pajamas with my grandmother wringing her hands at his side as he made the county safe.
With all that experience of nighttime phone call handling tucked under my belt, I knew I had crossed the crisis management threshold and had been ready since day one of my mom's visit, I took the phone in hand. I expertly called the airline and waited on hold for an agent. I'm vetted, I told myself as I waited, phone in hand and glasses perched on the edge of my nose, giving me an aura of Clintonesque competence to my mother.
Once the agent got on the phone I fought for my mother to get her on another flight. I took on the vast flight wing conspiracy to keep my mom in DC for another day. We need solutions, not excuses I told the agent. After all "Your flight is canceled" are just words. Thanks to my experience, the agent came through and we booked my mom on another flight. I have the scars to prove it.
Yes, thanks to my experience in handling middle of the night crisis from those years I spent at my grandparent's house, my mom is on her way to rejoin my dad.
I think I should be county engineer. Hell, make that a pilot.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Pregnant Pause
From Hotline:
Listen to the painful silence.
It was, in this reporter's opinion, the most interesting moment in today's Clinton campaign phoner with reporters. Responding to the release of HRC's new TX TV ad, which asserts in no subtle terms that only she has the experience to deal with a major world crisis, and, relatedly, to keep your children safe, Slate's John Dickerson asked the obvious question:
"What foreign policy moment would you point to in Hillary's career where she's been tested by crisis?" he said.
Silence on the call. You could've knit a sweater in the time it took the usually verbose team of Mark Penn, Howard Wolfson and Lee Feinstein, Clinton's national security director, to find a cogent answer. And what they came up with was weak -- that she's been endorsed by many high ranking members of the uniformed military.
Listen to the painful silence.
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