Black man in the big white house is whitey's nightmare, and I wish I knew some panicked people. But I'm in a trendy corner of Brooklyn, surrounded by twee men and chubby women who talk literature at happy hour, so I'm missing out on the country's indignation over the world's ultimate Big Negro On Campus. I could turn on Fox News I suppose, but I've no stomach for politics anyway. I don't mind the mind-boggling bailouts; I don't mind the occasional broken promise. They're all monsters, and my life is pretty well fucked no matter who's in 1600 Penn Ave.