To think that Mike Gravel couldn't even win in Alaska - somebody needs a hug.

I'll sum up Super Tuesday in one word - wahwhozzit? With only New Mexico still undecided (Obama leads by a mere 71 votes), it's becoming clear that both the popular vote and delegate counts are almost exactly even. Unprecedented and fascinatingly complex. Bomb-throwers are speculating that the Clintons will need to lend millions of THEIR OWN money to the campaign to keep things rolling over the next few weeks while the smattering of contests look to seriously favor Obama. Quite a change from the penny-ante days of Whitewater, eh? Regardless, the whole race is just starting to simmer. Hence the absolutely ridiculous statement from Hillary last night during her "victory" speech that she "won't let anyone Swift-Boat this country's future." I'm not alone in wondering just what to take from that making it to a prime-time speech. Be afraid people. Be very afraid. This is gonna get muddy.

On the GOP side, McCain's a shoo-in. Romney's a bigger flop than this season's New England Patriots. Huckabee's a barely lovable Luddite. And Ron Paul will forever be known by his tattered bumperstickers on pick-ups and second-hand Hummers just like Kucinich is immortalized by similar campaign art on rusting Subarus and bike commuters' paniers from sea to shining sea.

Hope your own Super Humpday is a landslide of fun. Rock on.

The day in between

Post-Super Bowl, pre-Super Tuesday - what a hype-filled moment for our Nation. So I'll take it light and let everyone off the hook. First of all, stunningly good Super Bowl. Given that my team was upset by the Giants, you'd possibly expect that I couldn't bear to watch the game. But I did. And after three rather uneventful quarters, the finale was thrilling. I've already emailed a few friends who are die-hard Giants fans, and they're over the moon. As they should be. A championship well-deserved.

In terms of tomorrow's Primaries, I'm expecting some big surprises. Chris Matthews will blow out a vein in his neck around 8pm, EST. Arianna Huffington's servers will thereafter explode after some doofus spills a $9 bottle of pinot gris amidst a celebratory back-office tryst. Rush Limbaugh will beat a deaf caddy to death with a 7-iron as the early East Coast exit polling hits his Blackberry. James Carville will finally agree to have sex with his wife (?), ending her 2,923rd day of the current dryspell. It should be quite a day, and I can't wait to see what actually happens.

Hope your own robo-calls feature Scarlett Johansson, or at least Jennifer Aniston today. Rock on.