Maybe it’s just her timing, with Hanukkah and Christmas all but begging for even a brief break from the ugliness of this political season.

But that’s not Liz Warren’s style. So it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone when she announced over the weekend that she is abandoning her pledge to eschew negativity, exchanging it with an updated vow to attack the jugulars of her opponents.

Funny, isn’t it, how the same left-wing crowd that swooned over Michelle Obama’s pious proclamation — “When they go low, we go high!” — has nothing to say about Warren’s decision to wallow in the gutter?

But the essence of our senator’s philosophy, if she indeed has one, isn’t as bothersome as the shallowness of her convictions.

As the late Groucho Marx once quipped, “These are my principles, and if you don’t like them I’ve got more.”

That’s Liz Warren, whose vision for our future is as blurred as her recollection of her past.

She’s a lot like our New England climate. “If you don’t like the weather in New England,” Mark Twain famously suggested, “wait a minute.”

That’s Liz, this vacillating lady who views herself as presidential material yet comes across more like the waffling John Kerry: “I was for the Iraq war before I was against it.”

This is what passes for leadership in America? It’s frightening.

Even when Liz is wrong, it might help if voters sensed she was at least sincerely wrong. But this is the lady who made a laughingstock of herself last New Year’s Eve when she interrupted an Instagram livestream broadcast from her Cambridge kitchen to tell viewers, “Hold on a sec, I’m gonna get me a beer.”

Surely she meant a John Kerry: “I was for the Iraq War before I was against it.”

A favorite Christmas story here has always been of the chilly, soggy Christmas Eve in 1914, on the western front of northern France in World War I when entrenched British soldiers heard a soft chorus of “Stille Nacht” coming from trenches holding their German counterparts across a muddy field.

They didn’t understand the words, but recognized the melody as “Silent Night,” so they began singing it, too, and soon soldiers emerged from trenches on both sides to shake hands before returning to their posts and resuming the bloodshed.

It was a fleeting moment in which sanity reigned and love prevailed, and even though it was short-lived it was a much-needed breath of fresh air.

O, could we use a similar break in our political hostilities today.

Instead, we have Liz assuring us it’s about to get nastier.

What a shame.


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