Clinton

While we were feasting on the edifying remarks of Jesse Jackson, Jr., Ted & Caroline Kennedy, and Michelle Obama in the Pepsi Center last night, the story beneath the story was being served up a few miles away and was far less palatable.

Our gracious host, Tim, has provided his "coming out" story as a participant in his third Democratic Convention. From the general tone and tenor, and that of other bloggers, it seems to be a standard form of introduction for the convention. So we will do our part.

Truth be told, I've never attended a Democratic Convention. At any level.

I'm not at this one. I'm at home in upstate South Carolina.

I'm an iconoclast who hews to Jim Hightower's view: if God intended us to vote, he'd have given us candidates.

My only national convention was the Republican one in Kansas City, thirty-two years ago. I wrote press releases for the Ford Campaign that no one ever read, much less published.

I spent a number of years as a RINO.

When President Bush decided, in 2003, that America needed to be protected from the likes of me against the possibility I could simultaneously find someone to marry me and a jurisdiction where it was legal, I became an independent.

Then I moved from Washington State- where having a blog is a residency requirement- to South Carolina, where Waldo became a minor celebrity over the last eight months.

And from that Waldo was invited to blog at Crack the Bell, the official state delegation blog of the Democratic National Convention.