Skip to main content

It's TV



     There is something about the old political conventions that can't be replaced.  Spontaneity.  They are so orchestrated , scripted, silly-slick that they are hardly entertaining any more.  Bad enough we have to endure sound tracks at ball games, political rallies, and weddings, now each campaign has to have a theme song, or an official group that hopes to embody the candidate's "message"  in a three minute sound byte.  Oh I know the history of political tunes and campaign songs.  I vaguely remember the "I like Ike" TV spots from 1956.  Something about what we've got now that's just too slippery.
     Gone is all the drama of the roll-call votes.  Gone are the self-serving speeches about "the great state of ..."
"Mr. Chairman, delegates to this great convention, the state of  (your choice), the only state in this mighty union to produce tomatoes all year long, the state of  Jonathan Knox, first printing press operator in the union, the state that invites you all to our annual sunflower celebration, the state where your smile is our only business...the state of (insert your choice) proudly casts it's 5 votes for (insert your candidate here)  fade to rousing chorus of Happy Days are Here Again.
Today is full of history and I'm as happy and proud an American as my cynical little self will allow, but nope...not like they used to be.

II

What's up with these Hillary supporters that can't back Obama?  What planet are they on?  They scare me the most.  No, really they do.  They're the ones who will decide your fate when the trucks roll.  They'll put you on the truck.  Their racism is the worst kind.  What you see is not what you always get.  It's laughable how they need Bill and Hillary to make it OK for them to back Obama.  Scary that these kind of folks are representing others.  It's like those creationists, in this century, this day and age, still cling to their anti-intelligence based beliefs.  Double scary.  I see Yogi walking slowly up to the mound.  He spits, he adjusts his crotch.  He spits again.  He looks at the 3 big ducks on the pond.  He senses the ump about to remind him to play ball.  "It ain't over till it's over," he says.  
It ain't over.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

To a Tee

 I'm a sucker for a good t-shirt.  They are the foundational garment of my life.  My day starts with selecting a t-shirt and it ends with sleeping in one.  Once thought of as under garments, t-shirts are now original art and no doubt, a billion dollar business.   You can get a t-shirt with anybody's picture displayed.  You can commemorate an event, a birthday, a death, even a specular play in any sport.  Family reunions usually have a commemorative t-shirt.  Also, any organization that solicits your support in the form of a donation is likely to offer you a t-shirt. Where once I only had the basic white t-shirt, my drawers are filled with all manner of colorful choices.  Some recognize major events in my life, some, spectacular performances or plays I have witnessed, and some unforgettable places I have been.   I say I'm a sucker for a good t-shirt because I have taken the bait on what I perceived as a must-have only to be disappointed. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...
3 comments
Read more

Body Language

I'm sitting there in a hospital gown, waiting for my doctor to complete my yearly physical.  This is when I look at everything on the walls, read the medical posters, the instructions on any equipment in the room, look in every corner and behind every chair.  I study the paper on the examination table, laugh out loud at the picture of a smiling child holding a bouquet of broccoli, and the note the placement of the computer in the room. Finally, wondering if the gown I'm wearing is on correctly, I focus on myself.  At this point in my life I'm fairly comfortable in a doctor's office.  But it always seems to take so long when waiting for the doc to enter.  So I fidget.  Then I begin a tour of myself.  Scars are tattoos.  I look at the one on my knee and see myself at 12.  Whittling a piece of wood with my Boy Scout jack knife.  The blade slips and I cut a crescent slash through my jeans and into my flesh for life.  50 years later ...
Post a Comment
Read more