I generally try to keep off teh politics here, but I thought this story would amuse you.

Yesterday afternoon Mrs. R and I were chatting with our next-door neighbor as we waited for the school bus to arrive.  The NDN is a fairly typical young Cafeteria Catholic, the sort who seem to have voted for The One in droves this year.

After speaking of this and that, with a funny look in her eye the NDN suddenly said, “You know, [your 10 year old] said to me this morning that she didn’t like Obama because he wants to raise taxes and kill babies.”

I chuckled.  Mrs. R, on the other hand, wheeled round and punched me.

“Anyway,” continued the NDN, “I told her that it was a liiiiiitle more complicated than that.”  By then I had got the distinct impression that she was a wee bit upset about the whole business.

Mrs. R then chimed in with, “Robbo, you shouldn’t be giving the gel these ideas.”

I shrugged. “Well,” I said, “I also told her not to discuss politics with people, but that obviously didn’t stop her.  Next time just tell her you don’t want to talk about it.”

Of course, I could have said, “Actually, it isn’t all that complicated,” but I didn’t really feel like mixing it up.  Instead I just imagined that the clanging sound I heard was the gel’s roundshot glancing off the NDN’s conscience.