Politics is a strange dance, a combination and often simultaneous tiptoeing through tulips and land mines by political animals forced by circumstance to dance together. So it is in this epic and ongoing battle between the Clintstone Machine, fronted by determined, even desperate yet experienced two-steppers, Bill and Hillary, and the spotlight on the audacity off hope, represented by me and my unique blend of black and white, of youth and experience.
One wrong step and the whole dance comes to an explosive end.
This dance is difficult for me and for Hillary. To keep her candidacy viable against the odds, like the tenacious pit bull she can be, she must attack. Contrary to popular belief, I consider her attacks against me a privilege and an honor.
Hillary’s attacks will make me tougher. If I can withstand her withering and relentless frontal attacks during the primary campaign, how can a mere John McCain do battle and succeed in the general election?
The difference between a tulip and a land mine is manifest only in what happens following a misstep. Hillary may think of herself as more experienced and better qualified, but she cannot bring herself to say that ‘Barack Obama is not fit or qualified to be Commander-in-Chief.’
Such a misstep would be the explosive land mine that John McCain needs to win the election in November.
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