I'm a Believer or Saint Crispian's Day

Oddly, it was a football analogy that turned me into a believer. My wife, a football fan, finds this hugely amusing. Rachel Maddow's trending report was interesting and all that, but you still have to believe the polls and disbelieve in the Bradley Effect, etc. Then Rachel pointed out that one of the ways to predict who is going to win a football game is to look at who's part of the field the game is being played in. And this game is clearly being played deep into McCain's territory: Indiana and even McCain's home state of Arizona. Obama's apparently actually gained ground in Utah. Amazing. We're certainly not going to take Utah, and I don't think we'll get Indiana, but as of yesterday Indiana had moved to 49% for Obama and 48% for McCain. I think we're actually going to pull this off.

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The first votes are in from Dixville Notch, NH (pop. roughly 75, 21 registered voters), which has been the first town to count votes for dozens of years and Obama won by a vote of 15 to 6.

Before we get too excited, according to fivethirtyeight.com there is no historical correlation between how Dixville Notch and the rest of New Hampshire or the country votes. What I do find hopeful, however, is this quote at allheadlinenews.com from Matthew Borghese:

Dixville Notch has a Republican history, voting for President George W. Bush in 2000 and 2004, while previously voting for both President George H.W. Bush in 1992 and Bob Dole in 1996.

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St. Crispian's Day
From here on, if Barack wins, Nov 4 will forever be known in my world as St. Crispian's Day. There is an amazing brief tribute to everyone who has worked their tails off to make this happen at the fivethirtyeight.com website that includes a quote from Henry V. It brought me to tears because I'm so glad to have been part of something bigger than myself and so right. I had started to mourn the America I loved, and I think it might be back.

Organizers of America,

H-Hour, D-Day is upon you.

After the election, when you can talk, email me your stories, because there's more to say about what you did. [pocket99s@gmail.com]

For the organizers, the volunteers, every damn brave last one of you:

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

-- William Shakespeare, Henry the DXXXVIII

For he to-day who sheds his blood with me, shall be my brother.

Let's get this thing done. GO VOTE! And drag your friends with you, too.