Dave's Fiction Warehouse

Look, we've all thought it, watching the young, energetic Barack Obama work the crowds in that charismatic way of his. But it took Hillary Clinton to say it : The last young, energetic, charismatic guy who was this close to the presidency got assassinated. Hillary raised the specter of Robert Kennedy during another explanation of why she should stay in a race that is well and truly lost. Of all her tortured excuses, this is the one that probably comes closest to the truth. Hillary is finally laying her cards on the table: She's waiting for lightning to strike, and she's going to wait as long as it takes. Because, God forbid, her opponent could get killed -- either figuratively, by another Jeremiah Wright episode, or literally, by an assassin's bullet. Well, a woman can dream. But this should give Obama pause in the unlikely event he's considering Hillary as a running mate. With talk like that, I'm not sure I'd want her within security perimeter, much less t...

It's farewell night at American Idol , and Ryan Seacrest is standing there with Jason and Syesha, who are holding hands and biting their lower lips. "America voted," Ryan intones. "And Jason ... (38 second pause for dramatic effect) ... your journey ends here." The audience goes wild. Jason just grins. They cut to the montage showing Jason's finest moments from the show and then he sings "Mr. Tambourine Man" again, this time forgetting the melody instead of just a verse. "Good luck in your future endeavors," Ryan says. "That's all for tonight. Next week, it's Vanilla Ice night on American Idol and ... " He notices Jason is still standing beside him, still grinning. "Uh, Jason. Sweetheart. You lost, man. The exit is over there." Jason shakes his head ruefully. "I'm a fighter, Ryan. I'm staying in this race until there is an American Idol, and obviously I'm going to work as hard as I can to becom...

You know, Hillary Clinton's probably going to win this thing. It doesn't even matter what happens in North Carolina or Indiana today. Like the lower half of her pantsuits, her campaign is finally approaching critical mass. The woman from Wellesley has morphed into the Okie from Muskogee. She's schmoozing losers in greasy diners. She's bellowing from the backs of pickup trucks. She'd be chewing tobacco and driving a mule if she thought it would get three more votes in Lincoln County. Obama, on the other hand, is starting to look like a seventh-grade civics teacher, weary of explaining to dim adolescents why the government can't make people richer by printing more money. Memo to Obama: See what is possible when you shrug off the tiresome rules of physics? You can promise all things to all people without shame. Your strength becomes greater than 10 CNN analysts. Your hair regains its youthful luster. Your sense of direction becomes exquisite: It coincides precisely...