No we McCain't

But the best parts I'd already memorised. It's a little trick I picked up, a side-effect of being a political junkie. When McCain pumped his fist and said "Barack Obama's tax policies will …" I cut him off and screamed: "PUT THE MIDDLE CLASS THROUGH THE WRINGER!"

When he took the beaten-dog tone in stating, "You know, we're behind in the polls a bit …" I couldn't help myself in yelling, "BUT WE'VE GOT 'EM RIGHT WHERE WE WANT 'EM!"

And when he said "Senator Obama wants to cut taxes for all but 2 per cent of businesses," I impulsively barked, "THAT'S NOT AMERICA" - even though, if had I been the speech-writer, I would have said "not American", as that would be proper English, even in America.

It was like a kindergarten version of Jeopardy, but the answers were half-truths and you could answer right only by ignoring the media's correction of the facts and memorising the lines word-for-word as McCain has spoken them the day before.

Despite my mockery, the candidate seemed pleased with my participation, probably because I was the only one still awake at this point.

Although I initially intended to exercise my right to some all-American heckling, the low turnout, the cathartic feel of the crowd and the sense of sympathy I had for McCain as he stumbled over the same words he'd rehearsed eight dozen times in the past month - all of these factors somehow took the excitement out of rousing the candidate.

When I got home, I decided to voice my disdain instead by erecting a sign on my front lawn that read "No We McCain't".

And rather than dwell on the lost time, I looked on the bright side and chose to put stock in the possibility that later in the evening Obama would at least draw a New Mexico crowd large enough to constitute a true "rally".

The next president did not disappoint either me, Anita, or the 45,000 others who showed up.