I wrote a couple of primary night results articles, with creative titles that broke down the upcoming outcome to a one-word headline — "Barack!" — which I have every intention of using later on. Anyway, I was on fire, despite having a bad day at work and making a hasty early exit in the morning with the front door left standing wide open. Nonetheless, I thought I was optimistic when I got home, especially since the house was undisturbed. But soon melancholy set in and I was just not up to any political conversation or keen writing, a bad sign.

I turned on the network news. Obama was losing. Okay, I can handle that because I figured the voting counts were lagging in districts important to Obama. Surely at any minute they would get tapped and dropped into the gap. The big votes waiting in the wings would be revealed any second now, dumping 10,000 more votes in the Obama column. I waxed sleepy and poetic at the same time — caffeine drill in order, but I wasn’t up to that, either. “What if I stayed up all night and he didn’t win, and I didn’t get any sleep?” I thought. Later that night with somewhere around 35% of the polls in — I suddenly saw the graffiti scrawled on Dartmouth dorm stalls: "Obama won’t win New Hampshire." Ugh! I put the sleep timer on the TV and became drowsy in the middle of John Edwards’ “whatever” concession speech.

What the hell happened? I mean what went wrong? The day before, January 7 (my birthday), I blogged my confidence, my predictions about the race and New Year’s greeting at my Yahoo! group “The Spiritual-Politico” (where I have been owner and blogger extraordinaire since 2002) in anticipation that this would be another foot-stomping, nail-biting, cliff-hanging strong win. I talked earlier to another Obama supporter, a woman who ran for political office and lost. She said that showing emotion while campaigning isn't an option. It was a real no-no. And in my mind it did not fit with Hillary’s tough gal image. I know she is tough as nails. And I advised Barack in posts, that were not too well accepted by other bloggers: "Get tough with that old bird."

He seemed to ignore that sage advice while Hill and Bill planted subliminal and blatant hints of doubt to anyone who would listen. Then Hill went one step further: she flip-flopped. She went from invincible Cat woman to one who had tears near-brimming or welling up while campaigning. Or, what the hell—she faked those tears and emotion. I can spot phony emotions when I see them. A really charged emotional situation is like being pregnant, either you are or you aren’t. So, if she was so emotional and it was so real, how is that she controlled it so well? Borderline emotions, well maybe, that’s acceptable. But that old game of crying on cue was manipulative at worse and convenient at best.