It’s becoming more likely that Gen. Wesley Clark will join the race for the Democratic presidential nomination. This excites the crap out of me. I’d love to see him run.

Sure, Howard Dean’s exciting, but the Democrats would totally lose if Dean got the nomination; he’s a liberal governor of a small New England state who’d have to appeal to a huge swath of the country, including much of the South. Liberal governors of small New England states only win the presidency on TV dramas. And that’s what this is about — winning the presidency.

A friend and I did one of the nerdiest things in the world a few months ago — we watched C-SPAN on a Friday night, because Wesley Clark was giving a talk. He was brilliant, he was thoughtful, he knew was he was talking about, he was charismatic and relaxed, he was dignified. He’s a retired general, so he has the military cred; not only would this make him look great to millions of Americans, but it would also help offset his moderate-to-liberal social views that might otherwise turn some people off. And he’s from the South, which would help him eat into W’s base. (Strangely enough, he’s a Rhodes Scholar from Arkansas, just like Bill Clinton — not that that’s an automatic qualification, but it’s cool nonetheless.)

My friend and I watched his talk, and we just about spooged all over the place.

Dean is a pipe dream. Clark has a better chance of winning than any other Democrat out there.

I can’t wait for him to announce.

I took the day off from work today and went to Van Cortlandt Park. I haven’t taken a real vacation this summer, and I decided I needed a day to just relax, to get away from things. I didn’t know what I was going to do today, but then I remembered I’d always wanted to go to Van Cortlandt Park, so that’s what I decided to do. I took the 1 train all the way to the end of the line. The train rolled up through the Upper West Side, then Harlem, then Morningside Heights, then Washington Heights, and then it emerged from underground. We went through Inwood, and then I saw high-rise apartment buildings on the cliffs of the Bronx as we rolled across the Harlem River. The train finally stopped at 242nd Street, and I got off and began walking through the park.

I walked to the Van Cortlandt House, inside the park, but there are no tours on Mondays. So I went behind the house and found myself standing on a dirt path, surrounded by trees. Beautiful, and… natural. Not just natural as in nature, but natural as in — this is humanity’s natural environment. We’re animals, after all. To stand surrounded by trees and branches and green leaves is to feel at one with yourself, to hear the calling of your ancient DNA. I felt like Thoreau.

I left the wooded area and walked along a path on the perimeter of a big field. Tons of open space to my left. And on my right were more woods. Dense woods. I felt this urge to run into them, to be lost in the woods, to run away from civilization. But it didn’t look like I was supposed to go there.

And then through the denseness I saw a man walking. And then I saw a path. So I figured it was OK.

I walked along the path. And then I saw another man.

Why are there men walking around here by themselves?

My instincts told me something. But then I saw two other men walking together, wearing shoulder bags, and I realized I was just imagining things. So I continued walking.

I saw a pond. And ducks. And across the pond I saw a golf course.

I continued walking along the path. Dense brush on both sides. And then I saw the two men with shoulder bags again. I began to walk past them.

One of them held out a little packet for me.

It was condoms.

Oh.

No thank you.

I continued walking along the path, amused. And then I saw a middle-aged man whose paunch was protruding through his untucked rugby shirt, and he was looking at me.

I decided it was time for me to get out of the woods.

So I left, and I went back to the open field — still amused, but a bit spooked.

I don’t think this is what Thoreau had in mind when he wrote about getting back to nature.

I so want to do this.

Um, I think.

I wasn’t really thrilled with the first two installments. They were technically brilliant pieces of filmmaking, yes, but I’ve never gotten over the changes. I’ve read the books a few times. Faramir’s not supposed to be evil. And “The Two Towers” is supposed to end in a cliffhanger, with disgusting Shelob. And Frodo and Sam aren’t supposed to rush out of Hobbiton when Gandalf tells them to; they plan to leave in summer, but Gandalf is nowhere to be seen, so instead they have to leave in the fall, when the world gets darker and creepier, which is not what they’d hoped for. I’d always liked that idea of their plans gone wrong. Instead, Peter Jackson just has them rush out into the world, as if audiences wouldn’t have the patience for anything else… and yet he inserts 15 minutes of snoozeville smack into the middle of “The Two Towers,” with flashbacks to Arwen and Aragorn and Elrond and Galadriel. (Galadriel?) I don’t get it.

Okay. I still think seeing all three movies in a row would be an amazing experience. I’m just not sure I could handle it.

And my butt would hurt.