You only live twice

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Why so surprised?

As any realpolitikian will tell you, the public option never stood a chance.

This is America.

Money is free speech.

And the Health care system affects one-sixth of the U.S. economy.


Now, boys and girls, what is a Senator to do?


What is the Democratic party to do?

Cicero said it well, "the sinews of war are infinite money." Can any political party, in America, interested in preserving and expanding political power do so without the huge financial contribution of the pharmaceutical and health insurance industry?

What was Obama to do? Stand up to special interests and risk to see the GOP---rather than the Democratic Party---be the prime recipient of the industry largess?

Madmike said it well, "Obama is no Harry Potter."

It can't happen here.

Meanwhile in Hoggart:

“Settle down, people,” called Remus Lupin, the current DADA teacher for Hogwarts, who had not—yet—succumbed to the supposed jinx on the position. Then again, Voldemort was dead, so maybe that was it. This class was combined Gryffindors and Slytherins seventh years. The war had had a peculiar effect on inter-House rivalry. On the one hand, it was difficult to hate someone you had worked with, stayed alive with, and risked your life with for the past year. On the other, some Houses, especially Slytherins, had lost many family members at the hands of the Order, many of whom were from Gryffindor. So you had Slytherins who secretly mingled with Gryffindors and Slytherins who hated Gryffindors with all their guts. It was like sneaking out after curfew—you weren’t proud of it, you never talked about it, you despised people who did it, but you did it yourself when no one was looking.

The line between the two Houses, now, were much blurrier, much less defined, but it was still there, as present as any of the students—invincible. Remus sighed and hoped that one day it would disappear.

“Now, I’m going to assume you all know what a boggart is and how to get rid of it.”

The class was silent—

“Sir?” Predictably, it was Neville Longbottom who raised his hand to ask the question that many of them longed to ask but did not dare. He had done this all his life, after all. “I forgot the spell.”

A collective breath of relief passed through the crowd like a gust of wind as they all let out the breaths no one admitted to have been holding. “A good question, Mr. Longbottom. Anyone?”

Remus scanned the crowd for the one hand he knew would pop up.

Sure enough, Hermione Granger’s now scarred hand hit the air and she called out, “Ridikulus!”

“Very good, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Now, I am going to call on certain of you to step up and defeat the boggart. Please do not be shy, and refrain from laughing at other students’ fears, unless you would like to be laughed at in turn. Patil, Parvati!”