This would not be the first time plagiarism has surfaced in this election. As some of you may recall, Sir Barack Obama was accused of the very charge, taking his now infamous "Just words" speech from friend Deval Patrick. Imagine my surprise, then, when I discovered that my dear Hillary Clinton had plagiarized my own words! In today's Pittsburgh Tribune-Review interview, Mrs. Clinton had this to say about the Reverend Wright: "He would not have been my pastor," Clinton said. "You don't choose your family, but you choose what church you want to attend." Is that not a paraphrase of one of my earlier postings, when I compared my inability to choose that wretched Lady Catherine for my aunt with Obama choosing his preacher? Hillary Clinton swiped the words directly from my fingertips. Now how seriously am I taking these charges? With the utmost care, let me assure you. Am I to write this off as "just words," as Mr. Obama and his operatives might say? Of course not. These utterances have penetrated my heart deeply, like arrows sprung from the fingers of a master archer, striking bulls-eye in my left ventricle. Yes indeed. Only Cupid's hand could aim so adroitly. I almost dare not think it, but could it be that my lady Hillary Clinton has come to love me? I can only hope.

At this point, there can be little question regarding my political preference. Only an illiterate dimwit from Yorkshire would fail to discern it, and even he probably has an inkling. Let me just quickly state, however, that if there should happen to be one of those in need of clarification, I am boisterously in support of the lovely Mrs. Clinton, pant-suits and all. A more poignant question, however, would be whether Jane Austen agrees with me. In a sense - since I am a creature of her machination - it could be said that I reflect her viewpoints. I would like to think that's the case, but I am just one small facet of her complex brain, one character among a slew of differing opinions. I could no less make that claim than disown the Austen community. The Austen Blog (a wonderful potpourri of all things Austen...highly recommended) expounded on this very point, precise location Exhibit C. It seems some are of a mind to associate Miss Austen with Mr. Obama, an assertion I hope to dispel for good through three impenetrable persuasions: 1. Jane Austen may not have been a feminist in the Wollstonecraft vein, but she certainly championed women's rights, and while my dear Hillary has her flaws, so did Emma. If I remember correctly, Austen managed to make a heroine out of her, so why not the same for Hillary? If Austen were here today, I say she would embrace the possibility of a female leader, perhaps rallying behind her with a sharp-witted endorsement (so long as the inauguration had the appropriate amount of satin). 2. What type of character is Jane Austen most wary of? The dashing, philandering male suitor! We see it time and time again, between Mr. Willoughby, Mr. Wickham, Henry Crawford, and even Frank Churchill (I think it's safe to say Mr. Collins does not grace this list, as he already inhabits the current presidency). This, my readers, is Sir Barack Obama, the sorcerer of seduction. 3. Hillary Clinton has oft been called the "iron lady" for her wilful determination and steely resolve. Is that not a trait common in Austen heroines? How about Fanny Price's insistence on denying Henry Crawford despite Sir Thomas Bertram's implorations, or Elinor Dashwood's fearlessness in the face of misfortune? My dear Hillary embodies these qualities in their finest form. So there you have it. Not only would Hillary Clinton garner Austen's support, but she would also transform into a true Austen heroine (perhaps leaving Bill - the greatest seducer of them all - behind). And if such were the case, count me among those in pursuit of her charms.

Let me respond to your post, Miss Eyre, with a bit of a pick-me-up. Your own physical appearance has been the subject of much questioning, by readers, literary theorists, and most notably, yourself. You are famous for saying: "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?" Let me respond with this interrogative: "Do you think because I am rich, famous, handsome, and large (interpret that as you may), that I am soulless and heartless?" Let's focus specifically on the words "soulless and heartless." When you voiced them in your beautiful speech to Mr. Rochester, you intended to say that you have a soul, a heart. That you had feelings. When I proclaim them, I mean it in terms of sympathy. I may be all those great things on the outside, but I have a heart and a soul too, and they feel for you in your self-deprecation. In fact, I find you quite beautiful, Miss Eyre. I have always been one to go for intelligence (hence, Mrs. Clinton), and I can proudly say that I find neither of you plain. Unfortunately, your Mr. Obama - just like Mr. Rochester - is not all that pure either, in fact far from it.

While speaking politics, a friend recently criticized Hillary and added, in jest, women should be seen and not heard. I know that my independence put me at odds with Victorian ideals, but come on! Now I don't support Hillary any more than Mr. Darcy supports Obama, but I definitely think that her candidacy is quite important from a social standpoint. In a brilliant speech, Obama recently discussed race from a social standpoint in modern society. I think that Hillary is doing for gender what Obama is doing for race. For that, I definitely respect her. But really, has this modern society really regressed back to a Victorian one? I should hope not. And of course what did I respond to my friend's platitude "women should be seen and not heard"? "Well, I'd much rather hear her...she's not much of a looker." I'd wager that Mr. Darcy would disagree.

The more I learn of your political figures, the more perplexed I am by their parallels to those from my time. Already, I have made a persuasive case for George W. Bush being Mr. Collins. The time has come to make a few more comparisions. Mr. Wickham: Easily Sir Barack Obama, as the articulate manipulator, making use of good looks and a swift tongue to deceive the populace. Lady Catherine: It must be Ann Coulter. Both are vile, and both think themselves more important than they are. Lydia: Michelle Obama, whose newfound pride in her country must certainly be due to the attentions of attractive soldiers. How else to explain the silliness and conceit? Charlotte Lucas: Laura Bush, because she must have had serious reservations about wedding George W. (one hopes anyway) And lastly (and the point of this piece), Mr. Bennet: Howard Dean. This is a complicated correlation, but it holds strong. Like Mr. Bennet, Howard Dean's progressive 50-state strategy netted him some early victories in 2006 (Jane and Elizabeth), but his hands-off approach to Florida and Michigan (Lydia and Kitty) will lead to their ruin (in this case, elopement with John McCain). Furthermore, Howard Dean presides over a party dominated by female voters - just as Mr. Bennet did daughters - and he struggles to coexist with women his age (Hillary Clinton, or Mrs. Bennet). As in the immortal words of Austen, Mr. Dean has put Democrats in an untenable position; select Obama and women will never vote for him again, select Clinton and blacks will never vote for her again. Finally, it must be said that Howard Dean, like Mr. Bennet, has one more fatal flaw: he plays favorites. At least Mr. Bennet had the judgment to favor the most virtuous one.

In a past posting about the delegate mess, I implied that Sir Barack Obama might end up drinking dishwater, among other references to Charlie Crist being served a crusty blueberry muffin. Now, in the wake of reports that Mr. Obama has singlehandedly trameled/trammelled (British) the Michigan revote, it seems I was all too kind. Dishwater is too clement a medicine for a candidate so fond of disenfranchisement. I say give him ditchwater. Now some will maintain that dishwater and ditchwater are one in the same, but I beg to differ. One of my servants once had the unfortunate accident of finding himself stranded in a ditch with nothing but the prior day's rain to quench his thirst. We rescued him after a thorough search of the Pemberley grounds, and he vowed never to indulge in ditchwater ever again. He drank dishwater every day. So the moral of my little anecdote is that ditchwater is quite a bit worse than dishwater, and that Mr. Obama - should he win the primary - will experience that awful taste for himself when he loses Michigan to John McCain.

In my nation's long and proud history, there are splotches of shame scattered within. I could lay out a laundry list for you (I just learned how to use your washing machines, by the way), but I prefer not to sear too deeply into periods I should rather forget. The question of a revote in Michigan, however, reeks of the same sort of self-interested corruption. Relying on fragile arguments, those connected with Sir Barack Obama mean to deny a fair calculation at any cost, including that of losing the state in the General Election. I understand their reasoning. It is clear as the chalk on England's southern cliffs. Mr. Obama wishes to thwart any possibility of my dear Hillary obtaining an advantage in popular vote. If he gets his way (which it seems he very well might), then justice will be tossed about like a wife wearing the Tudor emblem. On the heels of such a landmark speech, I say shame on you Mr. Obama! If my greatest desire for the Reverend Wright would be for him not to practice what he preaches, then it would be decidedly the opposite for Mr. Obama, who must live up to his own billing, a billing that might see him second if such an event fails to occur.

Those of you who have read my prior commentary know that I have been critical of Sir Barack Obama in many respects. Much of that is due to my growing affinity for Hillary Clinton, but I also attribute a good portion to sound logic. I still hold the same reservations, but I want to step aside and give credit where it's due (as you Americans are fond of saying). Mr. Obama's speech on race was unquestionably brilliant, if for no other reason than that he was uniquely qualified to give it. Put any other human being in the world in front of the same words and the effect is lessened. Perhaps Nelson Mandela could have delivered it with more authority, but even that is doubtful. As the first prominent biracial presidential candidate, Mr. Obama has the genetic formula necessary to quell racial strife in America. Throw in his political stature, and the stage was set properly for a speech for all ages (both in terms of human ages and eras). Yes, I can step aside for a moment and praise a truly elemental moment in human history. For a day, you, Mr. Obama, are king of the world. As for tomorrow, I still have yet to hear a real policy.

Sir Barack Obama's defense of his longtime cohort, Pastor Wright, has been summed up as a relationship with an old uncle. To give you the exact quote: "[Rev. Wright] is like an old uncle who says things I don't always agree with." That got me to thinking about my relations, and I recalled how little say I had over my own Aunt, Lady Catherine, the villain responsible for my current whereabouts (I think, anyway). Interesting, though, how I did manage to show enough judgment to defy my aunt and marry the woman I loved. Mr. Obama has done no such thing. Then it occurred to me that Reverend Wright is not even Sir Barack's real uncle, but a friend close enough to be considered family. Hrmmm. Something smells like the Thames.

This past Sunday, I embarked on a pursuit of the right Christian institution for my membership. Between all my ephemeral stops, I likened myself to Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Obama, when they famously criss-crossed between Ohio and Texas several times a day. Needless to say, there is little that resembles the old Anglican church I used to be a part of (nor do I mind escaping Mr. Collins' sermons). Let me describe my journey: I made my first stop at the Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. Aside from feeling slightly out of place (I did not quite fit with the demographic), I found myself put off by the explosive preaching, particularly in regard to America being the KKK and the support for anti-semitic leaders like Louis Farakhan. To make matters worse, things were not exactly pro-Hillary, which to me is the greatest desecration of all. I left aghast, though still with the audacity to hope for a better congregation. My next visit was to Virginia Beach, where I figured Pat Robertson would give me a warm welcome. How wrong I was! Never have I heard such absurd hate-speech. I could be wrong, but I think Pat Robertson blamed my "godlessness" for the tornado that befell Georgia this past weekend. He also predicted a number of apocalyptic events, brought on by such terrorist groups as the gay and lesbian community. So reprehensible were his words that I suddenly considered Reverend Wright and his Trinity United a rational place of worship. Dismayed by my first two attempts, I made the trek out to Los Angeles (what speedy transportation your world has!) to hear about a promising new sect of Christianity: Scientology. I found myself in the company of such wise people as Tom Cruise (the gentleman from Mission Impossible...he must know miracles). While their congregation was not as motivated by hate, it was equally nonsensical, cult-like even. For a moment, I thought I might be at an Obama rally. Finally, I set my sights on St. John the Divine in New York. At last, an accepting establishment that boasted itself as a Christian haven for all Americans, no matter their faith. They were even kind to Jews! It would behoove Mr. Obama to switch here if he decides to leave Trinity United, just as I did. Of course, it also helps that the architecture reminds of old Westminster Abbey, but I think you Americans can appreciate that. So there you have it. Come sit with me at St. John the Divine on Sundays and we can open a pint of brandy afterwards....my treat.

Any who have had the honor of reading Pride and Prejudice know that the first of these epithets was in reference to me. Yes, I was guilty of too much pride, and I have pride enough now to admit it. That being said, who would know better than I about the vices of pride and arrogance? I read this piece on Mr. Obama's arrogance, and there are a few serious red flags. Let me point out two quotes in particular: "To know me is to love me," and "Every place is Barack Obama country once Barack Obama's been there." Aside from the Bob Dole-like use of the third person, we are dealing with a candidate far to full of himself to effectively lead a country. This nation needs the delicate touch of a woman, in this case my dear Hillary.

There's a certain timelessness to the question of "head or heart." Back in my former life, the obvious "head" choice would have been to marry Lady Catherine's daughter instead of Elizabeth, but my heart pointed uncontrollably for the latter. The same question plagues the superdelegates today, as they debate between head (Clinton) and heart (Obama). The common argument goes that Obama inspires a new wave of hope, based not in policy but change. Clinton, on the other hand, is all reason and experience, with a robotic insistence on asserting policy over faux-idealism. When it comes to choosing the leader of a country, reason should always prevail. That Obama inspires such optimism is nice, cute even, but will it bring results? Perhaps the real idealist, the true bringer of hope, is the one who depends on pragmatism to achieve those ideals. That, my readers, is my dear Hillary. And as for me, I go with my head, but also my heart. With each passing day, I become yours all the more, my dear Hillary. You have my head and my heart, and perhaps you could have half my possessions too.

By all accounts, the Swing era was a flourishing time for the arts and cultural advancement. My objection to dancing has been well documented (though not nearly as strongly as Mr. Knightley's), but I should have liked to give Swing a go. In fact, I would take myself there in an instant if not for a certain Hitler. But all this talk of Swing has my head swirling, which generally leads me into another rumination on the political sphere. In this piece, the Washington Post breaks down the ten most likely "swing states" to, well, swing in the 2008 presidential election. I list them below: Missouri, Minnesota, Florida, New Hampshire, Virginia, Ohio, Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico, Iowa. Minnesota and New Hampshire are the only two blues. If I were making a list, I would add Pennsylvania and Michigan, but I will work with their list. Of those ten, my dear Hillary has won five in the primaries so far, while Sir Barack has also taken five. If we were to assume that each would take his/her five, that would amount to 61 electoral delegates for Clinton and 50 for Obama. Advantage Clinton. Of course, this is not to say that each cannot take all in the General Election. By my subjective analysis, however, I see Obama with very little chance in Florida or Ohio (47 delegates), whereas Clinton has nearly the same chance in Missouri and Minnesota (21 delegates). I see neither with much chance in Virginia and Colorado, despite what the Washington Post says, with Iowa being Obama's only clear supremacy. Again, Advantage Clinton. And, she's more attractive (at least, to me). Threefold, Advantage Clinton.

In my time, more attention was paid to spinsters than Spitzers, but it was people like Eliot Spitzer who contributed to spinsterhood. In your world, progressions in the feminist movement, materialized in the advancement of the female gender, make the once-dreadful thought of spinsterhood a mere bad noodle. With that being said, let sympathy go out to Mrs. Spitzer, who has had to endure not only the acidity of public shame, but the forced realization that her life has been a sham. She is Elizabeth's sister Lydia, except she knows of the disgrace (Lydia, in her ignorance, had not the slightest idea what I saved her from). Some parallels have to be made with the current lady of my hour, Mrs. Hillary Clinton. From my comprehensive study into her life, I know the public crucified her under similar circumstances (see Lewinsky, Monica). If it is any consolation to Mrs. Spitzer, she should look proudly on HRC's rise from the ashes and find her own phoenix. It is also fitting for those, who know neither Spitzer nor his wife, to make assertions on what they should do. These sentiments are expressed beautifully here: http://leftoverright.blogspot.com/. Let them be. But if there is to be any cross-cultural summation on our two eras, let me leave you with this insight: There will always be Spitzers and there will always be spinsters, but as society progresses, the Spitzers become more repulsive while the spinsters get along just fine.

Yesterday, I began my exploration into race relations in America, and today I was supplied a fresher insight. If this is any indication, it seems the racial separatism is now perpetrated from both sides (And I thought having to suffer through one of Mr. Collins' sermons was unnerving. This makes that look like a stroll through Mr. Rushworth's gardens). Certainly, Pastor Wright has the right and authority to express his opinions, but he should also realize what a damaging effect these sorts of statements have on Obama's campaign. If Sir Barack is truly the great uniter, he must declare a moratorium on old-seeded racism and direct the collective conscience of this country forward. And from a strategic standpoint, these monologues do little to advance his cause with rural white voters. The unfortunate victim in these proceedings is my dear Hillary, whose devotion to civil rights goes unrecognized. For those accusations, I say shame on you Pastor Wright. I also am no stranger to "prejudice," though in a different form, but as is often the case, those acting in prejudice act in the wrong. Do Sir Barack and your nation a favor and put a stop your unruly assaults.

Racism in America has been a foreign concept to me...up until now that is. I've been doing my research on the history of American race relations, and I cannot help but react to the stark comparisons in yesterday's Mississippi primary voting: As demonstrated here, my dear Hillary won nearly 3/4 of the white vote, while Sir Barack Obama took 9/10 of the black vote. These are certainly disturbing images, and it's perplexing how I suddenly find myself a pugnacious crusader against racism. In just a few meager days, I have transformed from a white aristocrat unfamiliar with oppressed minorities to one who wishes to fight for them. Indeed, I have adapted quickly to the times. Perhaps I'm more adaptable because, well, I started out in a novel. After all, I was adapted into a number of movies if that's any indication. In the course of my research, however, I could not prevent myself from noticing the cornucopia of civil rights acts performed by my esteemed Hillary, and as such feel all the more disturbed. Why must my dear Hillary suffer under false pretenses? She is no racist! To all my devoted black readers (and I know there are many...I hope...wait, do I have any readers?), please give this fine woman another chance to convince you on her policies. If my experiences are any indication, listen to Hillary articulate on subprimes and you will feel weak in the knees. Oh, how I'm falling for that damsel!

I call into question the theatrical production in Mansfield Park, composed so brilliantly by Jane Austen (to whom I owe my existence). I watch the daily squabbles between my dear Hillary Clinton and Sir Barack Obama, and I cannot help questioning whether they would do better as team, uniting their political party, just as lovers do when they take their vows. Could they not join for the sake of the people? I posed that question, and this week I received answers. Hillary: Yes Obama: No All the more reason for that fine-looking woman to get my vote. My dear Hillary, I am hopelessly yours.

It confounds me that you Americans, who opposed our George III with such vehemence, would go and elect an inept George of your own. I watched that inarticulate fellow on the television - CNN I believe they call it - and I was startled by his resemblance to a meanderer from my time: Mr. Collins. His difficulty in pronouncing words and failure to pick up on social mannerisms were all too familiar. Fortunately, back in my age, Mr. Collins only stood as church leader of Rosings Park. How is it that you Americans would "elect" such a man? This must be Lady Catherine's doing. I blame her for all my misfortunes. Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted in my absence?

I've been studying American politics quite closely, specifically as it relates to the delegate mess in Michigan and Florida. It reminds me of a similar situation back in my time, when speculators from Devonshire attempted to undermine the British government on a land surveying initiative by campaigning early. Despite their actions (I punished them by serving sour tea and stale scones when they visited Pemberley), we knew that their voices were true, and that as landowners, they deserved a say. Such is the same with these renegade states, whose juvenile actions ought to be frowned upon, but not silenced. Today, I would serve Bill Nelson and Charlie Crist a crusty blueberry muffin, but I would never thwart their constituencies. If the prior vote is to be ignored, then surely there must be a revote. Otherwise, Mr. Obama might find himself sipping dishwater.