Tonight marks the real beginning of the democratic convention, and really, the serious beginning of the campaign at large for President of the United States.
About fucking time.
I don’t think I’m alone in being more than a little fatigued by the two plus years of primary season eye gouging, especially as we got down to the bitter, bloody end. I mean, Hillary vs. Barack? Either way, we would’ve gotten a viable candidate out of those two.
But it’s Barack and him running against McCain seems like an incredible no brainer. For starters, McCain looks half dead already. Or, at least, half crazy. And secondly, do you want a man who doesn’t know how many houses he owns to have his finger on the button?
Tonight’s the kick off of the Democrat’s convention at the Pepsi center in the mile high city with Michelle Obama doing the honors of speaking in prime time, selling her husband’s story to us. As if you could actually still be undecided. (And the people who have a problem with Michelle, I really don’t get you. Aside from the “For the first time in my adult lifetime, I’m really proud of my country” misspeaking, which even then, you need the last part of that quote for some context: “…because I think people are hungry for change.”)
But starting tonight, we get what I like most about the conventions: Transforming the candidate from a normal schlub of a politician into ultimate literary hero, the protagonist for a new era of American promise and security and freedom and righteous blah blah blah. I doubt you’ll hear too much about our current President, the most unpopular ever in American history, or why we shouldn’t elect someone that’s basically of his ilk, but you’ll get the start on why Michelle’s husband is our guy. There’s nothing natural about these conventions at all and every single second is carefully scripted, so I’m hoping for a level of majesty that only Roth or Faulkner could deliver. Starting tonight we’re going to hear the best of the best of anecdotes from young Barry’s life, presented to us as the humble first few chapters of the Great American Novel.
And I’m excited about it.
In 2000, it worked (for me, at least) with Gore. He was transformed before my eyes from a middle ground type politician into the New American Science Hero. And since then, he’s only taken that role and ran with it to become one of our most respected elder statesmen of the party (winning a fucking Nobel prize will do that kind of thing for you). I would’ve been more excited to see the un-aired Spike Jonze video there as well.
In 2004, it didn’t work for me so much. Kerry… eh. My reaction to Kerry getting the nomination was the same as my (and The Light Brigade‘s) reaction to Biden getting the second slot on this year’s ticket. “Oh, hey, John Kerry’s the nominee? That’s great cause zzzzzzzzz.” (Although, I did find the Biden thing slightly interesting if, for nothing else, the fact that Biden wanted McCain to be Kerry’s running mate four years ago.) With Kerry, I was more than a little put out by the overly crafted Swift boat stories of Vietnam heroism (You’re no JFK, buddy), and can only dread what we’ll get from the McCainites at their convention. And Edward’s “Two Americas” speech was an interesting but flawed rough draft of a speech that just didn’t reach the higher levels that I imagine he thought it did.
In fact, the most impressed I was in 2004 was with Theresa Heinz-Kerry. Yeah, she came out looking like she maybe just popped a muscle relaxer with a glass of champagne beforehand, but still, to me, she had the sound bites. And she had the story that worked. I probably would’ve voted for her based on that speech. Here’s an excerpt from her speech: “I learned something then, and I believe it still. There is a value in taking a stand whether or not anyone may be noticing and whether or not it is a risky thing to do. And if even those who are in danger can raise their lonely voices, isn’t more required of all of us, in this land where liberty had her birth? In America, the true patriots are those who dare speak truth to power.”
Good stuff, man. Too bad her husband’s a fucking joke.
Oh, and I get home just in time to see Edward Kennedy’s speech. It’s definitely a democratic convention now.
Hopefully this snafu on the unity issue with the Obama/Clinton camps will get taken care of and the proceedings get more focused (Although I wonder how much of the tension is left over from the Obama camp throwing in with the Kennedy’s months back in an attempt to crush any growth in the Clinton dynasty power monster). I think Hillary would’ve been a good running mate and maybe should’ve at least been vetted for the sake of saving face. But nonetheless, I don’t think anyone really expected her name to end up on this ticket. Except for maybe Bill.
Just pause for a moment, if you will, to imagine the brilliance one last time of a Hillary presidency, with Bill as the First Gentleman, getting up to all sorts of crazy hijinks in that big ol’ White House. And then, after they leave office, I could pitch you the great husband and wife detective show of all time: Mr. and Mrs. President! Move your ass over, Nick and Nora.
Anyways, Michelle Obama’s speech is about to start as I write this and I’m ready to see how this novel begins.
Cindy McCain: The very definition of angry hate fuck.
If I was to play a game of Marry, Fuck, Kill with Cindy McCain in it… Well, I don’t think she’d get the Marry nod.
In other news, Ana Lucia is coming back to Lost! And nobody is that excited.
We’re getting closer to them firing up the Large Hadron Collider.
I could probably make mention of American Idol getting a fourth judge, most likely to tune out some of Paula’s outbursts when she’s “tired,” but I honestly don’t give a shit.
Someone wants Cher to play the Catwoman in the next Batman movie. Yeah, sure. This, after Robert Downey, Jr. disses The Dark Knight. Oh, and some people have too much time on their hands for photoshopping. That image of Kristen Bell, while hot, creeps the shit out of me.
Jon Stewart rips the media a new one.
Canada remains happily mediocre.
Redheads and cats. Even Mark Twain knew what it was all about.
Betty Draper = Grace Kelly.
You’ve got the greatest athletes in the world all together in one place. What do they do? Sex!
Also, vagina couch!