The internecine squabble between Team Billary and the Junior Senator from Illinois is fabulous to observe for many reasons, but perhaps for none so much as its resemblance to a tale from Aesop. Aesop, you may recall, was, according to the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, one of the three greatest African-Americans in history, ranking just behind Barack Obama and Jesus Christ, in that order. A noted story teller of his day, Aesop immigrated to ancient Greece in order to promulgate his fable-based moral precepts free from the oppressive white power structure in America.

The particular Fable in question is the Hound and the Bone, in which the Hound represents the Democratic party, and the bone is the ascension of that party to supremacy in both Congress and the White House. It was truly a great prize which the hound discovered, and he prowled through the woods and fields proudly displaying his treasure. All was well until he glanced into a pond where he found another dog, with a larger bone. He growled at the dog, and the dog growled back. Thinking "I shall have this bone, too," he barked at the dog, whereupon the bone he had dropped out of his mouth and was lost in the water.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The Democrat nominating process was supposed to be a coronation, the ceremonial process by which Hillary would accept her birthright. With the Republicans in disarray the path was clear, so clear that it was a small thing to "disenfranchise" voters in Michigan and Florida for having the temerity to vote too early. This wasn’t going to be anything other than a symbolic punishment. Once Hillary had the nomination locked up it would be a mere formality for the Rules Committee to vote to seat the delegations.

Then that upstart had to flourish his silver tongue, and all Hillary’s dreams proved to be just that, a fantasy. Her stumble in Iowa destroyed her myth of inevitability, and her campaign’s inability to right itself shattered the illusion of confidence. Once her claims of experience were exposed as the lies one tells oneself to get to sleep at night, the only thing Hillary had left was a gift for making people hate her. Surprisingly, this hasn’t proved enough to put her over the top.

On the other side of the equation, Obama rose from obscurity on a raft of platitudes to become the hope for a downtrodden nation. With time, the interpolation of hope with change and the future with today began to suggest to some that there was no there there. What does Obama represent? What does he believe? As people started to ask the questions, and as the answers started to appear, some began to suspect perhaps he wasn’t the gentleman they were expecting.

Today the Democrat race looks like a scene from one of those old westerns, where the bad guy points his gun at the innocent farmer or saloon keeper, and says "Dance," while firing his six-gun at his victim’s feet. Hillary and Obama are both dancing to today, but they are firing at their own feet. It makes for good cinema, but bad politics, and already Sheriff McCain is polishing up his badge before riding in to rescue the townspeople.