Overheard.

Tonight, in the sparsely populated New York library on West 100th street, I listened to the following conversation between two teenagers standing in front of me in the check- out line (why I was at the library, and why I was waiting patiently in the check-out line is a story for another time). The teenagers, a boy and a girl, who looked to be around 16 or 17, were discussing (what else?) politics.

Teenager One, male: McCain just looks like he's going to croak. He's like 72. He's gonna die in like 12 hours. [I use every once of self-control I possess to resist cocking my head to the side and asking-- in my strongest Valley Girl accent-- "Like, really?"]

Teenager Two, female: Mmm hmm. I know, right?

Teenager One, male: ... and then when he dies that woman Palin is gonna be President.

Teenager Two, female: Wait, who's Palin?

Teenager One, male: Oh she's the mayor of Alaska.

For a brief moment this evening, I felt a sudden true and noble calling to become a high school history teacher.