So President Obama has won the Nobel Peace Prize.
The immediate, semi snarky response I have heard is that he won it for not being George W. Bush. That's setting the bar pretty low, I would say. I'm not George W. Bush either. Neither is DMarks, or Paulie Beernuts, or Ananda Girl, or Jeanne. And frankly, if anyone deserves a Nobel Peace Prize, it is a mother of two kids. So by that standard, Jeanne should win the Nobel Peace Prize, too. Maybe they come in six packs.
This was the first really shocking piece of news I've heard in a while. Boston losing to the Angels? Kind of saw that coming. The Literature prize going to someone I had never heard of? Not a shocker. I still jump a little whenever the "special alert" thing comes on the TV, and it was pleasant to not have the news be about death and misery for once.
Conservatives are going to crow that he doesn't deserve it. Liberals are going to crow that he should be nominated for sainthood, too. Frankly, it doesn't make any difference to me. He won't be the worst Peace Prize winner (Yassir Arafat, I'm looking at you...), and he won't be the best. For once, the newsbreak isn't about human misery, and for that, I'm grateful.
I finished Nick Hornby's new novel, "Juliet, Naked" this morning. As usual, I'm a little sad that it's over, and a little sadder that I didn't write it.
It's a marvelous book, though.