I'm sitting in a large conference room watching TV with about 30 other reporters. Across the hall is a room full of Democrats living a moment that would have seemed impossible only four years ago. They're hugging, laughing, gently shaking it to the Tom Tom Club.

Except for one woman, the angriest Democrat. In a room full of scrubbed party operatives, gymmed up and ginned up, she seems to have wandered into the cordoned-off press area from some other political reality. I can't guess her age, but I assume she's old enough to have voted for Truman. There can be no joy for her tonight until President George Bush has suffered deeply and viscerally. No amount of payback can satisfy her bloodlust.

"That son of a bitch Bush! He's ruining the fucking country. He can't lose bad enough." It was a little loud in there, but I think she described a meeting of her son and the president in which her son "leaned right in his ear and called him an asshole." She wouldn't tell me what her son did for a living.