I only read it for the articles

Okay, if nothing else induces to read all ten pages of the New York Times Sunday Magazine's special report on the rise of the blog as the basic unit of political discourse in America, then by all means click on over to ogle at the provocative picture of Ana Marie Cox (aka "Wonkette"), whose mischievous pose at a GOP schmoozefest is worth the price of admission.

I know that The Jersey Exile is hardly up to the standards of Daily Kos, Eschaton, and the force of nature that is Wonkette, but I'd like to think that occasionally I muster up a nice bout of righteous indignation about the state of the world today. Lately, though, I've noticed that a lot of my political anger just isn't there like it was before. Maybe it's all the history being crammed down my gullet of late, reminding me that despite the gloom-and-doom predictions of the Left, four more years of George W. Bush won't end Civilization as We Know It. Good Lord, if two terms of Reagan didn't kill us all, nothing can!

And who knows? Maybe the best thing that could ever happen would be for the Asshole Prince to win this time around and actually be forced to clean up the total mess he's made of things - both here and abroad. We might even be treated to the delicious spectacle of an impeachment (even a double impeachment, for if Dubya is guilty of high crimes and misdemeanors then Dick "Go Fuck Yourself" Cheney is ten times as prosecutable!), if the Dems can rally the troops and win back the House and Senate in 2006.

Maybe that's why in the end few if any people come to my neck of the blogosphere. because who on the Right or the Left wants to hear that no matter who wins come November, it's probably going to be okay. The sun will still rise, the moon will still wax and wane, and the Red Sox will still choke after getting everyone's hopes up for nothing yet again.

There is a certain optimism that can be gleaned from a pessimistic view of the world - I have an old T-Shirt from my rock climbing days that purports to be the property of the Fat Boys Mountaineering Club, whose motto is "Aim Low and Overachieve." These are sane words to live by. Maybe in the era of white-hot political brinksmanship we should all be striving to be less like Kos and Atrios and more like Wonkette, who may not change the world but who will get invited to all of the cool parties.

And in the end, isn't that what's really important?