Again with the Writer's Block

Yes. Writer's block. One writer. One block. And it's mine. And you can't have it. Unless I decide to give it to you. Which I suppose, technically, I could. But then, what would I have? Because I sure as hockey sticks don't have an idea about what to write.

(But I may, may, I say, know for whom I will vote!)

Decisions are being made over here. Bear and I just finished watching the Nevada debate, with civic attention and deliberation, and only a wee bit of heckling. (Oh, they couldn't hear it. Stop your reproachin'.)

And you know, after watching several hours of candidates and pundits say this and evade that, I'm struck by the similarities between this debate and my early parenting strategies:

• Don't want us to play with an issue? Distract with another shiny issue. And hope no one notices that they've been shelved.
  
• Offer choices, but limit options to things you really like to do or make you look good. ("Charmed or Buffy? No. Well, we don't have to watch TV. I just thought you'd like to watch TV." "Absolutely no combat troops in Iraq. No combat troops. In Iraq. Well, obviously we would position troops in Kuwait.")
  
• He who shouts loudest is desperate and, you know, really, really loud. Which is sometimes all you really need.