Excerpt
That said, I still think of Clinton as a sofa, and here's why: Without her, we can't quite relax. Without her, something is missing. There's a strange echo in the room. There's an empty space on the floor. There's nothing for the dog to furtively leap onto as soon as we leave the house.
Let's face it, that's no way to live. Barack Obama, that sleek Eames chair of a man, may be sexier and hipper than Clinton, but he hasn't yet matured to the level of the indispensable sofa. And until he makes voters comfortable enough to kick off their shoes and fall asleep in front of the TV (rather than sitting up to avoid choking on their adoring drool), more than a few Obama supporters will quietly hope Clinton stays in the race just a little longer.
Before Tuesday, the pundits had tapped Obama as the inevitable -- and deserving -- Democratic nominee. But as I went about my business in non-pundit land, I began hearing an interesting refrain. People who'd voted enthusiastically for Obama said that as the Clinton campaign's death knell began ringing (or was that the theme music to "Anderson Cooper 360"?) they began to have second thoughts.
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