Good morning, Cincinnati

Here's a picture that looks exactly like what I can see out the window.

(Since that's Mr. Monroe's copyrighted photograph, I will take it down shortly.)

We've finished our business in the Queen City, but remain ensconced in the Netherland Plaza downtown, enjoying all the amenities of concierge level service. I think they (not the Hilton, the other people, the ones whose name I haven't mentioned) really want to hire Mrs. Diddie, but we'll see.

Meanwhile, the precipice continues to crumble from underneath Tom DeLay's feet. I wonder which of his cronies is going to flip first. Probably won't be Jack A., but it's bound to be someone, and shortly I'm guessing. I would still prefer that the Imperial Sugarland Bugman not be forced to resign -- or frog-marched from the Capitol -- until about October of 2006 at the earliest.

The standoff continues in Crawford without incident and without concession from either side. Yes, it is petulant and immature and childish, but Bush won't be swayed; he is steadfast in refusing to acknowledge dissent. Everyone knows real men don't ask for directions.

I'm sorry we missed going to Crawford to show support, as well as to Austin for Chris Bell's kickoff, so we'll just have to make up for it some other way.

I'll try to get back here this weekend with deeper thoughts on other matters. But it is the end of summer, after all...