Decisions, Decisions

Sometimes there’s such a thing as too much choice. Like debating between Like It- and Love It-sized portions at Cold Stone Creamery.

My current dilemma: Barack vs. Hillary.

I’m excited about Obama’s run for the White House, and not just because it would be cool to have the president hail from my hometown. I’m excited because in his speeches, Obama frequently comes across as an inspired leader rather than a career politician.

I’ve often wondered how it is that a country that boasted an embarrassment of brilliant minds at its founding—Jefferson, Franklin, Madison, Adams, Hamilton, Washington, et al—has since suffered a dearth of genius, only occasionally broken by rarities such as Lincoln or Roosevelt (take your pick). Does a senator with scarcely two years of national service under his belt belong in such company? I’d love to find out.

On the other hand…Hillary. For a good portion of voters, she’s weighted down by more baggage than Paris Hilton takes on a trans-continental trip. Personally, I don’t care if Hillary’s warm and cuddly—I’m not auditioning her for the role of my mom. And I don’t care about the state of her marriage with Bill—it didn’t stop us from electing him twice. I do care about where she stands on the issues. And more than anything, I care about the message that electing a woman to the presidency of the United States—the most powerful position on the planet—would send to little girls everywhere. And to women everywhere. And to leaders of countries where women are treated like third-class citizens. Now that would be inspiring.

Decisions, decisions.