Thursday, August 28, 2008

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.

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