Somebody rush to tell Natalie Maines that her long national nightmare is OVAH!

When she uttered her criticism of the Shrub on that London stage five years ago, the argument "thinking" Republicans -- and the fine folks at Clear Channel -- put forward as they called for boycotts and CD burnings was the fact that she spoke against the president on foreign soil.

Today, George "Mission Accomplished" Bush attacked presumptive presidential candidate and likely future president Obama, referring to his logical, right-minded "strategy" of attempting to engage our enemies with diplomacy first as "appeasement" -- and lumping in a Nazi reference for good measure.

Natalie, not only was your professed shame over our Chimp in Charge well justified, your remarks pale in comparison to his.

More below.  

Hello, all:

I'm emerging after a blogless weekend -- blogless because of the hours and hours I had to spend with police, tow trucks and insurance companies after some crap-ass, drug-sucking felon stole the catalytic converter out of my 2007 Honda Element.

It has been quite an educational weekend, and I'm writing to alert you all to what, apparently, is the hot crime of 2008: catalytic converter theft.

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We all agree that last night's so-called debate was execrable. We all agree that the nation should collectively hold ABC's feet to the fire. We all agree that ABC and George Stephanapoulos and Charlie Gibson colluded to carry water for the other side, generally, and Sean Hannity in particular.

We all agree. But we're not talking about what actually happened last night. What it all means. What ABC's performance underscores in spades.

Last night? Last night was the collective establishment on both sides of the aisles telling we, the people, to go fuck ourselves.

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Hey, gang:

I'm reemerging around here after taking a break. I watched MSNBC long enough on Friday night to witness the early seeds of Bittergate -- and I just managed to turn off the tube before small pieces of my brain began to trickle out of my left ear.

After months of phone-banking and blogging and begging and cajoling and delivering signs and stickers and literature and conventioneering for days, I was forced to stage an intervention on myself. And Bittergate gave me the perfect excuse.

I promised myself to avoid Kos, MSNBC, CNN, NPR and the newspapers -- and, with a couple of notable exceptions, I did. Here's how, and I recommend it to you all...

Hello, fellow Obama supporters:

I got a call yesterday afternoon, and an e-mail follow-up, from Alexandria Rosetti, the Obama national campaign field organizer I worked with while serving as a precinct captain here in Dallas.

Sure, we caught up -- but, mostly, we talked about her need for support in the field in Scranton, where she's working now. Alexandria reports that Scranton, Hillary's birthplace, is tough sledding for the Obama team, and asked for any help we can provide by way of phone calls.

Info directly from her below the jump:

Woke up early this morning in the middle of a driving Texas hailstorm and flipped on the TV to see if things were better in other parts of the world. Still haven't broken the habit of tuning in Morning Joe yet, although I AM working on it....

Flipped on MSNBC and, as I took my first slug of coffee, was treated to footage of Hillary on Leno, yukking it up over her lies about Bosnian sniper fire.

I snarled so loud in response that I woke the small person up -- and, after some snuggling that lasted until the next time they rolled the tape, my eight-year-old, Sadie, had some choice observations for Hills:

Today alone, MSNBC pundits have casually, offhandedly referenced Hillary's win in Texas at least a dozen times that I've counted. Just listened on NPR to somebody referencing Hillary's win in Texas. And again, today, Wolfson is talking about Texas voters, indicating that they've placed their confidence in Hillary.

I've gone beyond irritation. I've gone beyond having my teeth on edge. I've gone beyond banging my head against the wall.

Hillary won Texas? My ass. Time to go postal....

Hello, all:

I'm just back -- literally, JUST back -- from Texas' 23rd Senatorial District's Democratic convention. I left my house at 6:15 a.m. I walked in at 12:30 this morning.

I'm exhausted. I'm thrilled Obama won by such a wide margin. I'm honored to have been selected to attend our state convention. I'm pissed as hell at HRC's national campaign.

And, after countless hours of phonebanking and organizing for Obama, an hourlong early voting process, a four-hour caucus process, and 18 hours of county convention, I've decided that I'm no longer willing to put up with anti-Texas jabs from Kossites, slurs against my patriotism from Republicans, and just about anything else from Clinton supporters.

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Sure, I'm a die-hard Obama supporter -- but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to give credit where credit is due.

Hillary says she's been tested, she's been vetted, she's got the experience needed to serve effectively as Commander in Chief...and my wartime experiences with her definitely back up that claim up.

I bumped into Hillary -- literally -- in the late 60s, when we were both thrown into the air when the bar we were drinking in was blown up by the Cong. The rest, as they say, is history.

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Over the last several days, we've gone from digging through HRC's records as First Lady to documenting her lies over Tuzla to making the obvious sniper-fire jokes.

Starting today, it's time to connect the dots on Hillary's duplicity. She misspoke? Since February. And repeatedly last week? Working from a printed speech? Mispoke? My ass, unless she's got the same tic that McCain does everytime he talks about al Q'aeda in Iran.

She lied. Like a rug. Repeatedly. Loudly and longly. With a self-deprecating chuckle.

Join me below, and let's talk about what HRC's cheerfully delivered pack of lies spell for a nation at war.  

(With apologies to pontificator):

America's middle class is done, and the speed of its collapse is nothing short of stunning.  A breaking news story now says that the middle class, which has been living on home equity generated by overinflated valuations and 44.9% credi cards, will announce either a sale to America's shadowy corporate overlords or collectively file bankruptcy before the markets open in Asia on Monday.  In a frightening sign of economic instability, analysts worry that the failure of enough middle-class Americans to pawn their refrigerators; sell their blood, sperm or eggs; or begin selling their infants to upper-class foodies a la Jonathan Swift could lead to a "financial crisis" for the nation's upper 1 percent of earners:

We've all had days when luck seems to leave us. When nothing turns out right. When everything we touch falls apart.

Days like the day Elliott Spitzer -- a.ka. Client No. 9 -- had yesterday. And days like the anonymous Client No. 8 is having today.

Yesterday morning, Client No. 8 was a man in charge of his privileged world. Fat bank account. (Well, fat enough to bankroll an evening with a $5,550/night hooker.) In all likelihood, a man of some power. (Well, powerful enough to get himself a membership in the Emperor's Club.) A man some may have looked up to. (Well, assuming none of his friends or colleagues knew he had to pay for sex.)

Today, Client No. 8's world fell apart. More below:  

Hello, all:

The lovely RenaRf just chided us all in a diary just posted to stop the ugliest of our sniping and start playing in the sandbox.

MSNBC just announced that a family fued between an Obama supporter and a Hillary Clinton suppporter just ended in a near-fatal stabbing.

Could there be a more graphic or profound example of what she's talking about? Sheesh.No lie.

Hello, all:

Today, my tiny family of two got an up-close-and-personal look at stranger danger -- and I can't help but think that our story is worth a reminder to all of you who are parents.

This morning, my daughter and I awoke in great moods, getting ourselves around and ready to cover the five miles between here and Reunion Arena to go and see Barack Obama. As we were preparing to leave, a friend called, and while I was on the phone, my eight-year-old, Sadie, went out to the sidewalk in front of our house to bounce her new yellow ball.

Five minutes. That's all the time that lapsed while I chatted briefly with a friend.

Five minutes.  

Forgive me, fellow Kossacks, but I can't help but celebrate a bit today!

Sure, I would have preferred it if my candidate of choice had won a clear lock on the nomination earlier in the process. Hasn't happened.

But if my choice hasn't nailed down the nomination yet, it's thrilling to know that, for once in my adult voting lifetime, my Texas ballot actually means something.

More below...

Hello, all:

I've just walked in from Dallas' first Obama rally, and am typing this as my eight-year-old and I are eating dinner and basking in the glow of the fun we had.

We've signed up to phone bank, we've signed up to provide some grub from time to time, and we've signed up to take a national volunteer in for the duration of the campaign.

In short, we're both PUMPED!

UPDATE: I awoke this morning to find this note from the campaign:

I have never been more proud of the ObamaDallas volunteers than tonight at the Gilley's event.  The campaign staffers said they have never seen anything like it.  Even when I teased them and said 'I'll bet you say that to all the grassroots girls' they said, no, we are absolutely in awe.  The support, the crowd, the readiness to get to work...they are just stunned. And, when I told them about you guys, it was another jaw-dropping experience for them. Very very soon, they'll harness your forces for the campaign. I can hardly wait...they ain't seen nothin' yet! All the best and much thanks...Molley Hanchey

With wave after non-stop wave of passionate diaries love, love, loving or hate, hate, hating every one of our Dem candidates, it's hard for the artist in me not to be inspired.

Who amongst us hasn't signed on to dKos in recent weeks, only to find 80 percent of the recommended, and 30 of the most recent 50 diaries, overviewing the reason a particular candidate glows or blows.

Awash in the mix of utter adoration and utter disgust, my heart beats faster, my eyes well with tears, my breath gets more rapid. After a few minutes, I find myself moved to poetry...and I'm betting I'm not alone.

Congratulations are in order, my dear Kossacks, and I will accept your heartfelt well-wishes here.

With zero dollars, zero people on the ground and zero effort, I tied with Hillary Clinton in Florida -- and I didn't violate my pledge to the Democratic party to do it.

As of roughly 8 p.m. Central time, the filing of this diary, I've won zero delagates in Florida. Zero.

More below...