Guy

Hillary Clinton Wins New Hampshire

"Over the last week I listened to you, and in the process I found my own voice," Clinton (N.Y.) said at her victory rally, embracing a newly emotional campaign style that appeared to fuel her turnaround here. "Let's give America the kind of comeback New Hampshire has just given me."

Sen. Barack Obama (Ill.), who had anticipated a second consecutive win after his Iowa caucus triumph last Thursday, conceded shortly before 11 p.m. "We always knew our climb would be steep," he told supporters, a day after he had confidently told backers that he was "riding a wave" to a win here. Former senator John Edwards (N.C.) placed a distant third, followed by New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson.

Ron Paul !!!

The Most Heroic Palindrome

Tin Can House, Silver Springs, MD

Star? Not I! . . . He too has a wee bagel still up to here held. . . .

Sample hot Edam in a pan. I’m a rotten digger – often garden I plan, I agreed; All agreed? Aye, bore ensign; I’d a veto – I did lose us site. Wool to hem us? No, cotton. Site pen in acacias or petals a last angel bee frets in. . . .

Vendor pays: I admire vendee, his pots net roe. Nine dames order an opal fan; I’ll ask cold log fire vendor to log igloo frost. . . . Cat? No, I’m a dog; I’m a sad loyal pet. . . .

Hot pages are in a mag, nor will I peer, familiar tat, so lewd . . .

Sam’s a name held in a flat, or, sir, bedsit. I wonder, is it illicit ore? No ties? A bit under? Retarded? Is 'owt amiss? I’m on pot; not so Cecil, a posh guy a hero met. A red date was not to last so Cecil sat. . . .

Part on rose? It’s a petal. Define metal: Tin is . . . (I gulp!) can! . . .

No, draw a pot now, do! Of wary rat in a six ton tub. . . .

Semitone, not a tone, radios emit; no, on tape; elsewhere it’s a tone. . . .

No, it is opposite. Yaks I rode wore hats, albeit on deity’s orders. Rats age more held in a trap, nip and I know it – set no cage now. . . .

Macaroni, rats, as a hoot, tie. I vomit on rats.

Frank Rich on Barack Obama: “Voting for a Smile”

People usually run for president because somebody tells them they should and then graft on the reasons afterward. But on Thursday, Obama’s vague optimism and smooth-jazz modernity came together in a spectacular fusion with the deep yearning of Democrats who have suffered through heartbreaking losses in the last two elections with uninspiring candidates.

Often unable to surf the electricity he sparked over the last year, Obama has now put on his laurel wreath and dropped his languid pose, tapping directly into what he calls the “fire burning” across the country — the dream of a cool, smart, elegant, reasonable, literary, witty, decent “West Wing” sort of president who won’t bankrupt us or endanger us or co-opt our rights or put a black hood on the Constitution.