No we McCain't

He seemed puzzled, and I realised later, when Anita noted my use of the word liberal, that his reaction likely stemmed from the mental struggle to put into context a word that in the past year has only been used in its political - extremist, socialistic, Democrat-loathing - sense.

"You think that if everyone here voted, McCain would win?"

"Well, there's a lotta people here," he said.

"No offense, sir, but probably a third of this line, including my girlfriend and I - who came just to confirm that the troll didn't look like a corpse only because of TV - we're not supporters. Excluding the children ya'll brought to this poor excuse for a campaign rally, the turnout here would give McCain about 800 votes."

"Just stop it," his wife interjected. "Don't engage those kinds of people," she said, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah." I couldn't stop myself. "Don't engage with the people whose futures you're deciding in this election."

The couple stepped out of line and were never seen again, which was rather surprising considering the puny size of the crowd. That, folks, was the highlight of the McCain "rally". And even the official news reports will back me up on it.

So there we were, waiting patiently, in a line that lasted a trifling 13 minutes, and as we approached the gates, Anita and I began discussing our expectations for the event. I could bore even myself with a "McCain is scared shitlist" of things he's said in desperation to change the recent political winds, but I'll note here only what was not expected: that the Arizona senator would say something original, comprehensive or even partially true. Perhaps it was of the useless kind of hope, but we had it anyway, and before we knew it we were inside.

We noticed immediately that despite their frugality, McCain staffers failed to accurately estimate the support their candidate could garner. They scheduled the event inside part of the fairgrounds, which held a maximum 3,000 people. This proved they were cognisant of their odds of winning New Mexico, but it didn't negate the fact that one could describe this picnic area as "packed" only if each attendee had brought with him or her an over-stuffed suitcase and a life-sized Teddy Bear. It was at least half empty, and although McCain surely would describe it as half full, I still couldn't say in good faith that the McCain camp utilised its resources on this one.

Media reports afterward said the Dustbowl State senator "inspired and generated enthusiasm" in 1,000 to 1,500 people. With that kind of turnout, McCain could have saved a pretty penny by renting out Joe the Plumber's driveway.

If this 450,000-population city turned out just 1,500 people, I wondered what was happening in other battleground states. Then I prayed I wouldn't be spending the next four years as I've spent the last eight - bemoaning the fact that this country put into power a goon who destroyed our image abroad and our faith at home.

Since Obama realised that public financing was a drop in the bucket compared the profits available from T-shirt and badge sales, McCain has been left in the campaign fundraising dust and money has been tight. As we entered the picnic area, a group of unpracticed "musicians" of a nameless cover band were making an embarrassment of themselves with songs like "Doctor Doctor".