Well, I try really hard to avoid talking about politics, but I don't see how anyone can say nothing about this year's presidential race; especially now.

The most important thing I can say about Obama's victory, for myself, is that I realize it is deeply meaningful in profound ways, ways that many of us cannot possibly fully appreciate. Watching news coverage of people weeping, screaming, running and dancing in the streets and—I could be imaging it, but—the general excitement and pride I believe I've encountered in LA this week, is precious. I am very, very, very happy for this meaning in Obama's victory. I am grateful to be able to say that I've been a witness to it. And for those who smirk at the idea of this being the "most important" thing I can say, well, my response is that in my opinion you truly underestimate its meaning.

Other than that, during the campaigns I found myself more frustrated and saddened than ever; largely because I paid more attention to this campaign than any other, partly because I'm getting older, and partly because I pay more attention to rhetorical strategies nowadays. All of the candidates bent the truth (I'm being kind) with impunity, both potential presidents made promises they cannot possibly keep, and both said they will do things they cannot possibly do. My biggest frustration and sadness in this campaign was simply the further maturing realization that as a consumer of political propaganda, punditry and "analysis," I am assumed to be a gross moron fueled by fear, raw emotion and selfish motives. To whatever level, in actuality, that I rise above that, I have been deeply offended by the whole mess of it all. I almost, very closely, refused to vote. But as I've noted previously in this blog, I hold, in faith, to the importance of voting. So I voted. For the dude I knew was going to lose anyway. I cast a vote not for a person, nor for a party's ideology, but for my own ideology, and in a manner that would not be a part of anyone being put into the white house. My vote was one of supporting an idea while rejecting its methodologies; of supporting the process in principal while not being a part of it in effect.

And this may well mean, after all, that I am a gross moron fueled only by fear, raw emotion and selfish motives. The strange loops of being human are seemingly unavoidable.

Next week work will be taking me to LA. The week after that I'll be heading to… well, someplace else. Geez. I hate flying. I have a phobia. It terrifies me. Think "Rain Man." Anyway…

This week I've met a few well-travelled folks, people who are retired and spend their time travelling about the country building homes with Habitat for Humanity. My boss has extended me the luxury of working on a Habitat house in the day, and working my real job at night. I think I'm not wise for assuming this schedule, but I am thoroughly, thoroughly enjoying helping build the house. I get to do physical labor, I meet generous folks, I do something good for another family, and I feel like I'm living like I'm supposed to. And, you know, it's a good thing for one's humility to do something you know little about. I have no idea how many times this week I've been shown what I've done wrong. But there are some really fine, practical, hands-on educators doing this stuff. I've been working with a guy and I'll ask him, "So, how do I do this? What am I doing wrong here? How do I fix this?" He'll show me how to do it, and then have me do it myself. Then he'll say, "Do you want me to tell me you why?" and if you answer in the affirmative, he'll explain the reasoning behind the action. I am always fascinated that there's a reason behind pretty much everything, and that a zillion little things are discovered throughout history, preserved and passed down and taught, becoming common knowledge in a particular community. Anyway, I like this approach to teaching. Tell somebody how to do something. If they're happy with that, so be it. But then offer to explain why that's how it's done. If they want to know, tell them. Either way: easy, efficient, done.

One of my kids asked me why I'm doing this. So I explained, again, that everything we have, and everything we can do, has been given to us for a reason: to help other people. Hopefully, one of these days it will stick. And hopefully, one of these days I'll do a better job of living up to it myself.

Here's the interesting theoretical aspect to the experience: you've got the two poles of American socioeconomic political theory coming together in a way that works very well. The company sponsoring this house is a big-business capitalistic enterprise which just so happens to have invested one and a half million dollars into Habitat, and on this gig is pitching in big time. On the other hand, there's an element going on concerning the haves and the have-nots, about socioeconomics and about what's fair and what's not, and about people who aren't worried about getting their hands dirty and their knuckles busted. It's a really interesting mix of various ideologies coming together both in theory and in individual people. The frameworks battling it out silently and far behind the scenes are enormously complex. But, I like my version: everything we have, and everything we can do, is to help other people.

This basic understanding and agreement is part of what I'm preaching in life.

I caught most of the Biden/Palin debate. Or, if you prefer, Palin/Biden debate.

The most useful thing for me in the debate was that it touched on one of my favorite examples of politics in action. When asked about rights for homosexuals, Biden of course was quick to make it clear that his team supports the same rights for couples, regardless of orientation. Palin was of course quick to make it clear that marriage in her opinion is between a man and woman. Fair enough. But notice that when pressed, Palin's team admittedly supports the rights and Biden's team admittedly doesn't support redefining the word marriage. None of this should come as a surprise, since rights are rights and (I tend to think) nobody at the federal level is in any way interested in redefining marriage since it would be a serious legal nightmare. And as far as I can tell, the same was true for Bush and Kerry; two candidates with the same stand on each side of the issue—when pressed to say so.

This is the concise, clear example of one way politics functions. Imagine a rock held in each hand. One rock gets held behind the back, while the rock which appeals most to the emotions of one's base is waved around as if it were a diamond in the rough, possessed by only one party. Slight of hand, smoke and mirrors. Something from nothing. And it works. With respect to a great many issues, this trickery works. And for that reason and that reason alone, that it works, politicians employ it.

This slight of hand is so unsophisticated that there is only one general reason it works, which is that the voters are already biased and willing to believe that the rocks brandished by their respective candidates really are diamonds. This step is accomplished by convincing the voters that the other candidates are liars, the implication being that they lied once, so they're lying now, but (by gawd!) there must be truth somewhere, so by elimination it must belong to us (or, at least, we're the only shot you've got). To put it a little more brutally, you know the other side has no diamonds. They don't even have rocks. They have fistfuls of turds. So, hey, even if I don't have a diamond, at least I've got a rock. You don't want to vote for some party that deals poop, do you? Of course not. Rocks are better than poop. So, uh, check out this nice shiny rock. Could be a diamond, don't you think? Maybe? No? Well, just forget that. Instead, just think about how bad poop smells.

Slight of hand, smoke and mirrors. Something from nothing. And it works.

Amazing.