Tweetin' Ain't Cheatin'.

Eric Schmidt Looks Innocent Enough, With His Watercolor Blue Eyes And His Tiny Office Full Of Toys And His Google Campus Stocked With Volleyball Courts And Unlocked Bikes And Wheat-grass Shots And Cereal Dispensers And Haribo Gummi Bears And Heated Toilet Seats And Herb Gardens And Parking Lots With Cords Hanging To Plug In Electric Cars.

The Clintons Want To Do Big Worthy Things, But They Also Want To Squeeze Money From Rich People Wherever They Live On Planet Earth, Insatiably Gobbling Up Cash For Politics And Charity And Themselves From The Same Incestuous Swirl.

The Republicans, With Their Crazed Reagan Fixation, Are A Last-gasp Party, Living Posthumously, Fighting Battles On Sex, Race, Immigration And Public Education Long Ago Won By The Other Side. They're Trying To Roll Back The Clock, But Time Is Passing Them By.

Perpetual Optimism Is Annoying. It Is A Sign That You Are Not Paying Attention.

Journalism, Spooked By Rumors Of Its Own Obsolescence, Has Stopped Believing In Itself. Groans Of Doom Alternate With Panicked Happy Talk.