You gotta feel sorry for Walter Mondale. Here he was, in his 70's and all-retired, doing nothing but hanging out, chillin', playing a little golf, and trying not to think about the fact that Clinton probably nailed his way hot daughter. But then Paul Wellstone goes and gets himself killed and Minnesota Democrat's have no candidate. So everyone in the Party tells him how much they need him. How much his party needs him. How much the country needs him. And they also tell him how easy it'll be. A cakewalk. Just two weeks or so of campaigning and you're Senator.

And so Fritz said, what the hell, I'll do it. He is, after all, a good guy. A true Democrat and, yes, a Patriot. Plus, he gets to be Senator without having to do all those unseemly things like kissing babies or kissing the asses of every campaign contributor this side of Lake Wobegone.

And he probably got really into it. Thought he'd probably win. Started to care again and get all tingly about the thought of being back in Washington. As a Senior Democrat. As a Statesman even.

Yet he loses.

For all of that, the guy gets out of retirement, prostrates himself in front of the voters yet again, and loses. And without even really wanting to, or having any desire to, he's gotta go and give a concession speech.

Poor guy. And you know he's gotta be thinking "I can't fucking believe I have to go through this crap again. I'm getting too old for this shit."