Where Do We Go Now? -- or -- "Divine Providence"

Obama, will you please just put the gloves on?
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I don't know what to say about politics any more.

Pennsylvania has happened. And it's gone pretty much gone the way we expected: Obama trailing by about 10 points, Hillary claiming the expected result as an underdog win, too many more primaries to go.

Which is why this is such a great time to talk about anything else, like my recent visit to Providence, a place decidedly free of politics as it busies itself quietly being the best little city in New England.

I do not know how in the living hell I have never gotten there before. Well, actually, I do know. I blame their highways-

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OK, wait, I have to jump out for a moment: Hillary is on TV right now, giving her victory speech. Besides a gauche, horrifying plug to have people visit her website to contribute to her campaign, she also just said, moments ago, that what the Democratic party needs is a fighter. I feel so torn about this. I agree, we do need a fighter. And I'll admit it, I am really starting to get that shaky-knee, shawl-scrunching feeling whenever I see Obama. In the debate last week, for instance. Could you possibly have stood there any more calmly on national television while the woman in the pants-suit just absolutely trounced you, like a silverback trying to smash its way into the chewy center of a coconut?

Could you?!

Look, Obama, you're cool, you're calm. I get it. And I still kind of like you. But I am really starting to get that dredgingly bored, dating-the-nice-guy feeling about you. Could you please, umm.., do something? I am getting pretty tired of standing in the dark alley next to you, quaveringly clutching my purse, while someone beats the shit out of you. I am all for the high road, but maybe - from your vantage point up there - you could stop painting Bob-Ross watercolors all the time and get out your grenade-launcher, just for once. Because Hillary sure as as shit is. At the very least, dance and dart a little, throw a jab, if only just for me. Obie, it just breaks my heart to watch you stand there in front of everyone, getting another Wellesly Wedgie. You're becoming like Marty McFly's father on Back to the Future.

Good God, right now, Obama - as I am sitting here typing - Hillary is totally stealing all of the forward-looking hope-talk that you have been home growing for over a year and she is totally - live on national TV, right in front of everyone - spinning it like a spider into this Pennsylvania-sized Knit Sweater of Hope and Dreams. As if this were her message all along. Stop! Thief! Someone grab her - that one, right there: the shape-shifter!

Ughh...

You know, despite her talent to become anything to anyone, it just so bothers me that the only form she cannot assume is that of the Person of Integrity.

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OK, back to Providence. It's such a gorgeous city: it's like a mini-Washington, D.C., crossed with the Batman-movie set at Universal Studios. And there is the-

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Shit, now Obama is speaking! Except that I haven't really been listening. As I have already explained to you above, Obie, I really just need you to start doing something. I am so totally done with all of your talking. Maybe it's time we start thinking about other seeing people.

Look, I get it. Good speeches: check. Great diction: check. Super-duper patriotic entertainment endorsements: check (Springsteen and Mellencamp). Majority of popular vote, greatest number of states won, most delegates, most money, most integrity: check, check, check, check, check.

But, Obama, you know what? It's tough-love time. I ain't listening to you anymore. Your words hold no meaning for me. I wanna see action or I don't wanna see you at all. Look, you got the tools, you got the 'tude. Now get the fuck out there and fight!

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So, anyway, Providence was just lovely, and the beds at the Biltmore were a dream! I think there was pillowtop on top of the pillowtop. As if in Lourdes, my friend was claiming his bed had just about cured him of scoliosis, such was the miraculous softness. Now, mind you, I could have used a DVD-player with the flatscreen, and the tile in the bathroom was cracked, but I am not complaining. No place is perfect. You never get all of what you want, all of the time, all in one place.

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Not even in a place as lovely as Providence, and most certainly not in politics.

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