Debra Pickett

I was sharing dinner with a few friends when one of them posed a half-serious question to the group: Who would you vote for in 2008?

Everyone else, citing a serious shortage of good options, refused to answer. But I pride myself on making the best of a situation, so I blurted out, "Russ Feingold."

This drew mixed reactions, from raised eyebrows to outright derisive laughter, but R. understood my reasoning immediately.

"Oh," he said, as if something had suddenly become very clear, "Because Paul Wellstone is dead."

The man understands me.

Since that evening, I've decided to commit myself fully to the Senate's most unabashed liberal. And I read, with giggling, giddy interest, GQ's Q&A with him.

It's interesting and semi-insightful and all that, but the best part, to me, is this exchange:

Did she [Hillary Clinton, with whom Feingold traveled to Iraq] pack more than everybody else?

[laughs] That would be a dangerous area for me to get into, because I may pack a little more than I should.

So you pack like a girl?

There would be those who would say that. And it would not be the easiest thing to deny.

Could we please have a liberal, metrosexual President? Please?!