Because It's Not Love (But It's Still A Feeling)

Look I'm the kind of guy who makes jokes at funerals, even, especially, those of my parents. I'm utterly distrustful of mush and generally my cynicism is sharp enough to make a Ginsu seem like a plastic picnic knife.

But I want to be someone else for 24 hours.

I want to believe America actually believes its own hype. I want to think the more optimistic, and more brusque, Declaration of Independence had something more to do with law than international public relations. (They really signed their names to pursuit of happiness?) And while even in my wildest dream I can't say I want to believe that the election of an African American to the presidency has killed off racism, I want to believe it's at least got a flesh wound.

I want to believe we're good. At least more good than not. Most of the time. And that only has to be 51% of the time.

So for one day, let's just let the happiness in, the blindness to the future only hope can bring.