Sporting Obama

I've never worn a candidate on my chest -- well, at least not in public; no hearts on my sleeve. There was that time, I'll admit, when I was in Little Rock, Arkansas, and the Clintonmania (for Bill, not Hillary) was so infectious that I bought a t-shirt from the Clinton Library Store -- a jersey-type T, with a big number 42 on it. Truth is though, that I was more excited about the design of the Clinton Library than anything else at that moment. Then there was the time when I was on the verge of buying a sticker that said: "Bush stay out of my bush." But then I thought: no -- that's just not my style. Generally, I stay out of the sticker, button, and t-shirt battles -- It's too alfalfa-sprouting-hippy-like to fill my car with flower-power, or wear shirts that say: "war is not healthy for children and other living things." Perhaps I've been a cynic...

Until now -- this morning I woke up, went straight to Barack Obama's official site ( http://www.barackobama.com/index.php ) and I bought myself a T-shirt -- a khaki affair of a thing imprinted with the face of the man I hope will be our future president. This says quite a bit: it says the cynic in me is hopeful; the cynic in me is excited...the cynic in me is dying.