International Socialist Review
February 07, 2005
I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to be at a ball, a genuine inaugural ball with tuxedos and presidential seal-emblazoned square napkins and succulent miniature crab cakes. Regrettably, we're a liberal magazine and, consequently, many of us are less than perfectly organized (although, at The New Republic, some of us prefer to think of ourselves as neo- disorganized)—and, well, I failed to honor certain press-credentialing deadlines.