It's not a threat. It's not pessimism. It's the truth.
January 20 will bring bejewelled ball gowns and stiletto heels (and I'm not just talking about Barney Frank). Hollywood will endure their 15 minutes in our nation's capital (D.C. is dangerously close to flyover country. Can you even get a respectable tuna roll and spring water there?) And an estimated $125 million will change hands for the one-day festivities.
Springsteen and Obama will share the stage, singing "Born in the USA" and the Supreme Court will recognize it in lieu of an original birth certificate. Jessie Jackson will find more cameras to cry in front of. Chris Matthews will have so many tingles traveling up his leg, he'll need a motorized wheel chair. It will be an event so stocked with romance and emotion, there is talk that Bill and Hillary Clinton may even leave the party in the same limo.
But January 21 looms on the horizon like that cheap tequila hangover, intestinal distress and signed Girls Gone Wild legal waiver you wake up with after a spring break night south of the border.
January 21 brings an economy in the doldrums on one side and an aggressively spending legislative branch on the other.
January 21 brings a still echoing promise to close the terrorist holding facility in Gitmo on one side and a ravenous body of extremists on the other.
January 21 brings the confirmation hearings of a tax cheating Treasury Secretary and an Attorney General who pushed Bill Clinton's questionable pardons for terrorists and tax frauds.
January 20 will be a pretty good day to have a (D) after your name. Your Presidential candidate won. He is entering office with a 70 percent approval rating. You can buy commemorative dinner plates of him on the Home Shopping Network.
Enjoy the moment, Democrats. You've won control, but lost your scape goat. The time is coming when you will either have to make it all better or it will be all your fault.
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