Ok, the chattering class which is where most will get their first or second degree information about the election.  So as you visit your relatives or otherwise fan out across the country during August you will hear things which defy your (and my) version of reality.  

"It's changin' out there. Just like last time. There's a storm comin' Harry. And we all best be ready when she does."-- Rubeus Hagrid from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

We do love anniversaries here in the USA. This year it was the 40th anniversary of 1968, one of those years like 1776, 1860, 1929, 1941 and 2001 where we stood at some kind of societal crossroads.

Of course the problem with anniversarial history is that the only time we're supposed to think about our history is when the Corporate Media waves its digital wand and provides us with a safely sanitized version that doesn't threaten the present Established Order.

As the great wheel turns, and the gloaming fades into the summer night, I place my hands once more on the monitor. Once more, the distance between us dissolves, and I am overwhelmed by your insistent voices. Oh yes, I sense you out there in the dark American night, and yes, I still have my suspicions about you.

OK, I have a bone to pick here and a soapbox to mount. While Baby Boomers is a term often used to cover everyone born between 1946 and 1964, actual demographers (as opposed to pop culture talking heads) now use the term to mean only those between 1946 and 1953 (or 1954), while those born 1954-1964 are demoted to such names as Generation Jones (how anonymous) or Shadow Boomers (defining them as shadows of their older siblings).

Those of us in Gen Jones are tired of being tarred with the Baby Boomer brush, which doesn't really apply.

Once again, the great wheel groans and the edge of darkness moves across the continent. As the somber American night settles, I place my hands on the monitor and sense your anxious voices crackling down the mojo line. Oh yes, I hear you out there in the dark American night...and I still have my suspicions about you.

I apologize in advance for the length of this diary. I don't usually have time to write long entries so when I do it kind of bubbles out.

Well Granny calls us purity trolls, PsiFighter says we should just grow up, Olberman is telling Obama how to do his job, to read this blog lately you'd think the entire progressive movement is about to crumble to dust because our latest patron saint of progress has declared a measure of independence from us, the "righteous" left, or perhaps the "self righteous" left is apropos.

From the perspective of a generational researcher it all comes off like some kind of self indulgent comedy, like so many brilliantly argued theses on how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. We become trapped by our own ideology, shouting into the echo chamber that is our own little corner of the blogosphere.

We wring our hands in fret, some because our once saintly anointed leader has spurned us, and others because now that we have entered meltdown mode he is surely to crumble amidst the loss of our once united support.

I originally posted this response to this diary.  I've now realized I need to post this where someone else will see it.

History lends its weight upon youth like a stone.
The young do not deserve that weight nor should they be forced to bear your history.

There is more than enough weight for them to bear in the future.

I promised to connect, this afternoon, my parents, and how they lived and died, with the parents of Stanley Ann Dunham, Obama's mother.  Simple connection: they were all in the Greatest Generation.  But, of course, I want to go into some detail and compare the two couples, and their children, such as myself and Stanley Ann.

So, come into the Grieving Room, where we talk about the dead; and we also talk about ourselves and each other, those of us, still alive, who remember so many things about the dead.

But I really know very little about the dramatic event mentioned in the title of this diary.  Why did my father walk away from his post?  Was it mainly fear, or mainly disgust, or, my pet theory, large doses of both?  Maybe some of you can give me your educated guesses.  But first, I must tell you what I know.  I must tell you what my father told me, as best I can recall.

I had an epiphany last night about my generation and the mess this country has been steadily getting into.  Put on your 3-D glasses, folks younger than 45. Then try to imagine....

They just don't get it.  The increasingly hilarious arguments being made by the Clinton camp about Barack Obama's supposed lack of electability in November have been shown to be bunk time and time and time again.  Barack Obama can easily defeat John McCain in November (probably even more easily than she can), and everyone knows it.  Heck, Hillary even said so herself in front of millions of viewers.

But there's a big problem with the whole "electability" argument, anyway.  Let's give the mendacious Clinton camp the benefit of the doubt and say that Hillary is a sure thing, while Obama would likely lose.  Wrong, but let's grant that idea.

I.  Wouldn't.  Care.  Anyway.  And neither should you.

Well, yet again my parents generation have helped screw up this country by picking Clinton over Obama in the great state of Pennsylvania.

I had this thought earlier this evening, while reading (here on DKos, of course) another of those exchanges between old Boomers who, like me, see Obama's candidacy as both indictment and redemption.  Indictment because, regardless of how understandable it may have been, we are the ones who, following the deaths of our trio of heroes, allowed the dream to die.  

Redemption because, against all reasonable hope, we lived long enough to experience one who has re-ignited our dreams and who has the ability to lead us in carrying the dream forward, maybe even to completion this time.

Redemption is made all the sweeter by the fact that this time my generation is not dreaming alone; this time we are part of a multi-generational mosaic that looks very much like the face of America.

Somehow that all morphed itself, in my overtired mind, into this latest take-off on Jeff Foxworthy's excellent Redneck routine.  Below the fold.

...are what we'll be.

The AP, via Yahoo reports that the years 2041 and 2019 mark the projected end of funds for Social Security and Medicare, though most likely sooner.  

I was reading a very intelligent heartfelt post on HuffPO, about a boomer's take on Hillary Clinton and her campaign.  I found it insightful, and for the most part supporters of both candidates where respectful and classy in their responses and replies.  

However, I did was struck by one reply in particular.  This woman's words prompted me too poor out of my soul half (well not even half) of the issues that I have had with my parents generation.  These are things I have always thought (and stated to my parents)

Here's the conversation, and my soulful (though not my full soul) response after the break.

Is Barack Obama on the verge of becoming the first Generation X President or is he a member of the last of the Baby Boomers? Follow me over the fold and we'll take a look at the generational trends that have shaped this candidate for President.

DISCLAIMER:

Dear Trolls or potential trolls.  This post contains potentially controversial subject matter.  Readers are advised to read the whole thing before commenting.  Readers are encouraged to not split hairs, take quotes out of context, and to understand that self-awareness and the ability to entertain irony are crucial elements to civilized conversation.

Thank you very much, and enjoy your read!

Yesterday Barrack Obama stated that while all Clinton voters would certainly vote for him, many of his voters would not vote for Clinton.

oh. really.

Well, this isn't a threat, or spite or sour grapes or whatever halfcan plot  ya'll will project onto my old wrinkled head -- I'm considering McCain and this once well behaved yellow dog just might be taking a big fat chunk of the electorate with me, one I think ya'll are going to miss down the road, even though we are invisible.  that's the new thing now, isn't it?  busting down those partisan walls and building new coalitions?  Well, I'm getting itchy feet to help build one and if you read on I'll explain why.