But what I’m mostly feeling — what I think a lot of people are feeling — is an overwhelming sense of relief.
I feel like I’ve been holding my breath and gritting my teeth for the last eight years. I feel like I’ve been on a bus on a precarious mountain highway, being driven much too fast by a grinning idiot who’s not watching the road, who keeps looking back over his shoulder to chat and crack jokes with the passengers… most of whom, like me, have been gripping the seat in front of them with white knuckles, eyes either shut tight against the horror or wide open in frozen panic, as the bus careens ever closer to the cliff’s edge.
And I feel like the bus has finally, finally ground to a halt to change drivers.
And the driver who’s getting on looks like he takes his job seriously and knows how to drive.
I am under no illusions about Barack Obama. (Well, hardly any illusions.) I don’t think he’s the second coming of Christ, or even of Abraham Lincoln. My best hope is that he’ll be the second coming of FDR; my worst fear is that he’ll be a mutant hybrid of Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter.
But the bus is no longer being driven by a reckless, delusional moron. The bus is being driven by someone who, whatever else you may think of him, obviously cares whether we live or die.
And I am breathing an immense, overjoyed sigh of relief.
Bye-bye, Bush. See you at the war crimes trial. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.