True story. . .

I went to a Bernie Sanders rally yesterday, at Ganesha High School in Pomona, CA. The crowd was universally nice. He was a rockstar. I want to marry him and also have him be my dad, which is kind of weird, so I think I'll just vote for him.

Brian was there, too, and our son Alex, 7, went and had a wonderful time running around; playing with the other children there; chanting "Bernie"; and interviewing people with his dad's Samsung phone's video camera afterwards. "Did you like Bernie?" he asked? "What did you think of Bernie?"

Alex's blonde hair is all long and '70s looking right now and he had this oversized plaid shirt and slightly high-water jeans on and his interview subjects thought he was the cutest.

I never go to political rallies. And I never donate money to politicians. Yet I've done both this campaign because I like the guy. I like that he's not a liar. I like that he's not greedy. Enough of me and my soap box.

The most exciting moment is when I first spotted him, far enough away that all I could make out was his form and his distinctive 'do.

I haven't been that excited to see a head of white hair since I last had coffee with Albert Einstein.