All that saddened me. How could my lover be anything less than bitterly thirst for revenge, when he had been shaped by domineering parents, teachers and colonels who had trained him to lower the eyes, shut his mouth, and obey without questions? "We won't put our attention on anything else till Clinton is out of office, and we will win!" he shouted in my face, defiant. I was concerned. Was he right or crazy and I, wrong and ignorant? "We don't have to have "a" winner", I said. "Like the boomers, America is wising up, and moving at the center.” "What angers me most," said Pete outraged, "is when a liberal adopts a Republican discourse, disguising himself as a chameleon. You know the nature of the chameleons? You never know where they stand. They change colors, and blend with the environment. With their slippery qualities, you can never put your finger on where they start, and where they finish. "Like the tricksters," I said. "There must be only one winner in the end," he said, "and it has to be us!" I was devastated. I could see there was nothing I could do to change the course of a chaotic future. Pete had started to hate Clinton more than loving me. Night and day on the net, he was pushing me out of his life for "irreconcilable differences". The same differences we can't do without, I was trying to explain, like the left and the right hands; men and women, the opposites and all in between. “We all live together for the common wealth,” I said. He winced with disgust.