Ever had a friend or relative invite you out for a drink, only to discover when you get to the bar that all your friends are there and it's actually a great big surprise party, and you're the guest of honour?
Well, that's kind of how I feel today, except it's a bit more like I'd been invited for a drink by a friend who turns out to be Squeaky Fromme, and the guest of honour at the party is Charles Manson.
A quick explanation - months ago, I promised to write a post about Hillary Clinton, proclaiming her America's Nixon-in-Waiting.
Of course, when I said that, I meant mean-spirited, pusillanimous delusions of persecution, and not perfectly happy to threaten nuclear genocide for political gain.
"Hillary Clinton today threatened to “obliterate” Iran if it launched a nuclear attack on Israel, her most aggressive rhetoric yet against Tehran as she seeks to cast doubts on whether Barack Obama would be a strong commander-in-chief."
I don't know, maybe this was just one of those occasions when leaving the room and counting to ten would've helped...
Anyway, never mind whether the Iranians a) actually have nukes or whether b) they're deranged enough to actually attack the Israelis.
In what universe is aggressive the correct adjective to describe a presidential candidate's threat to exterminate a nation of seventy million people?
A few other, more apt descriptors spring to mind, and suffice to say they're a tad stronger than belligerent or combative.
Noting quickly that this follows on from McCain's threats to bomb Iran and Obama's to bomb Pakistan, I think I'm seeing a pattern forming here.
It's the presidential version of small-man syndrome, isn't it?
Now, I'd be a lot happier if Hillary set her sights low... It'd be far saner for her to wait until the next debate, then to throw herself at the camera, snarling and vowing to skullfuck the Guantanamo detainees to death with a collossal stars 'n' stripes strap-on, live on national television.
Or perhaps John McCain could throw darts at kiddy fiddlers on the Tonight Show, before saluting and loudly humming Hail To The Chief while maniacally whacking himself in the knackers with a snooker ball in a sock.
Now, that would be impressive.
Because, you know, when I look to the next leader of the free world, I'd prefer it if they looked a little bit less like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad... And if they absolutely have to, they could at least put on a bit of a show while they're doing it.
(By the way, I'd originally intended to do an amusing post about how American politics closely resembles The Crystal Maze tonight, but even I can't work out how to wedge mushroom clouds into the metaphor.)