TAKING AIM AT THE RNC - DISPATCH 2

The Elephant Strikes Back

It seems the Republican Party doesn’t like to have their dirty laundry aired in public. They’d like to keep their dirty little secrets just that - dirty, little, and secret. Can't say as I blame 'em. Could be they don't like people prying into other's private lives[1]. Or could be they're not keen on looking like a criminal gang of hypocrites. But hey, isn't this the party of Harding, Hoover, Nixon, Reagan, and W? I say it's common knowledge by this point.

Perhaps I should have waited to post my first dispatch until after the convention. Or maybe I should be grateful that my spurious press pass was revoked. It saved me from the bitter struggle of attempting to stay upright and awake during a triple threat onslaught of George W. Bush, Jumping Joe Lieberman, and Fred Thompson. Any one of 'em serves up a heavyweight bout of boredom. All three in quick succession could very well be fatal.

I ended up watching the speeches on TV in a local sport's bar, Malina’s, a scene of much local interest in recent weeks. Seems a young patron started trouble with the wrong guy and ended up with a shiv in his gullet. Nobody’s been arrested, the cops suspect the regulars are protecting one of their own. Happens all the time on the Range. C'est la vie. My advice: don't kick shit you can't carry.

Malina’s was the closest thing I could get to a sense of danger in a town that’s more locked down than Leavenworth. And even that was weak by most standards. Had I yelled out my support for Obama, I would have had to fight my way out of there. I decided to keep my mouth shut and bellied up to the bar, praying for CSPAN. I got FOX NEWS, and quickly realized that a bar is not just the best place to enjoy a Republican Convention, it's the ONLY place.

I got into it pretty good. So much so that I was able to laugh at that lame duck when he quacked about the "angry left" with his trademark murderous contempt. By the time "Traitor Joe" took the stage, I was less focused on his "maverick blah blah blah" than I was on his shocking resemblance to Droopy. Juvenile, I know, but so is the whole Republican political agenda. And maybe it was the Beast playing tricks on me, but I swear to God when I closed my eyes during the Fred Thompson speech, I thought that TV's Dr. Phil was addressing the rabid Republican hoard.

Another cheap smile, perhaps, but one much needed in a world where a McCain-Palin ticket is considered anything more than the whispy death throe of a once-powerful tyrant.

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[1] Except, of course, in public policy that dictates Governmental involvement in a woman’s most private decision and a gay couple’s civil rights.

TAKING AIM AT THE RNC - DISPATCH 1

There’s a dangerous air in St. Paul. I’m not talking about chemical leaks from the local 3M plant, I’m talking about a sickening nervous energy that’s pulsing through “America’s most livable city.” It’s my first day at the RNC, and despite the fact that I saw a female journalist dragged Cro-Magnon style by the cops; this is far from a conventional GOP convention.

New York in 04 was the real deal. In a previous dispatch, I talked about the GOPoPPP, and the Manhattan convention was the ultimate expression of the “say one thing/do another” social club. Take, for example, Club Liberal[1], a once-respectable Midtown hangout transformed by party officials into the definitive late night right-wing fetishfest. After hours of speeches about family values and morals all peppered with racism and a not-so-healthy dose of gay-panic, young male wonks could retire to the Bacchanalian backrooms of Club Liberal and indulge in every "sinful" behavior they spent all day protecting America from. Drugs, sex, violence. Stick your prick into one of those holes in the wall…someone will be there to suck it. Have to take a piss? Retire to one of the restroom’s infamous “shower stalls.” So many images remain burned in my brain to this day, but by far the most sickening was the main event on night two…Sticking it to the Big Apple. The “Big Apple” in question was an overweight Puerto Rican prostitute in a too-tight, crotchless red teddy. I’ll leave it your imagination how many times she had it “stuck to her,” but I think it’s safe to say she didn’t walk home that night. Club Liberal was far crazier than the Limelight at its heyday, far more sinister too…a surreal experience made all the more surreal by the knowledge that these guys were aspiring right wing power brokers by day.

There’s nothing like Club Liberal this year in St. Paul. Nothing I’ve been able to weasel my way into, at least. But I was able to weasel my way into the Xcel Energy Center to witness First Lady Laura Bush’s speech. Less than four minutes by my watch, and nearly every second of it devoted to the Gulf Coast and the Hurricane. The line that struck me to the core: “our first prioty now, today, is to ensure the safety and the well being of those living in the Gulf Coast region.” There was plenty of respectful applause, and I was pretty sure that at least ninety percent of the audience missed the horrible irony of that statement...something more despicable than any of the goings-on at Club Liberal.

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[1] The name of the real place has been changed to protect the guilty.