Today is the winter solstice, meaning it’s the shortest day of the year.  And it comes not a moment too soon, as Bill Clinton campaigns around Iowa—-for himself.

Clinton never really enjoyed the governing part of being president: wheeling and dealing with the Congress, wading into the minutiae of personnel changes, managing the massive federal government, making sure the trains ran on time.  Sure, he loved the glory of the position: being called “Mr. President,” having a personal valet, schmoozing with world leaders.  But he never actually liked the nuts-and-bolts of governing.

For Bill Clinton, campaigning was where it was at: shaking millions of hands, opining endlessly on whatever struck his fancy, having adoring crowds surge toward him, and the constant movement—he was never in one place for long, moving always, like a shark.

He’s been without that for a while, that incessant motion he equates with success and praise.  Thank goodness for Hillary, eh?  He’s got an excuse to campaign, to be back in his element. Of course, it’s not about her.  It’s about him.

Behold yesterday in Iowa, where he spent hours at a time holding court, chatting up the crowds about his OWN presidency and his OWN record and his OWN legacy.  It was more than 15 minutes into the speech before Bubba mentioned that his wife agrees with him on all of it.  He delivered that not as the main point, but as an aside.

Even the most ardent Clinton supporters are tiring of this narcissistic routine.  It’s predictable.  It’s old.  And frankly, it’s more than a little sad.

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