And the beat goes on.
The democratic process grinds through Pennsylvania like the Union Army of old, chewing up the soil and pitting father against son, grandma against brother-in-law, glory, glory hallelujah.
The war-camps have moved on to the moonlit cornfields of Indiana, land of Mellencamp and Vonnegut, and the generals stare into the campfires, divining, drinking heavily and sharpening their spears while common soldiers on both sides trade taunts and rhythmic insults across tomorrow's Field of Honor.
The camp-followers, the pundits and press and experts and comics shake their heads and wail in public and then retire to their tents to whoop it up and congratulate each other on their extreme good fortune. Another battle means another day's wage for these ghoulish, short-sighted coiffed melon-heads. Wolf Blitzer and Chris Matthews slap hands and backs and Anderson Cooper smiles enigmatically across the room, sipping an Absolut and grapefruit juice, sitting alone as usual.
And where are we, where are the People on this Night after the Day before the next Big Night of polls and attacks and feints and coy rejoinders?
Have we, almost without noticing, taken a collective step back from the fray? Have our positions hardened a bit, where once we instinctively grasped each others hands, now is there a reluctance to reach across?
And where's Johnny Mac? He's not on the little screen, true, but that's not necessarily a bad thing for the Arizona Wildcat and his Great White Army. Johnny wears out his welcome with exposed viewing, he's like the frat brother you want to spend the weekend with, but come Wednesday afternoon you want to punch him in the mouth and tell him to shut the hell up.
Cranky people make other people cranky, it just works that way.
So, yeah. She beat the spread. Her victory speech last night was odd in that it took her about two minutes to get to the naked plea for money, dropping the website twice.
Cameras kept lingering on the boxing gloves in the crowd.
Subtle.
And then, in what has become a signature style for Senator Clinton, she wrapped up with a nervous, clumsy half-attempt to twist an Obama saying or refrain. She was reaching for a "Yes, we will!" call and response but the crowd had clearly not been fully briefed, responding with a disorganized "Yeahh!!", robbing her of the button and perfect landing.
Meanwhile, Senator O played it cool, giving a standard, if slightly energized, concession speech. When he shifts down to one of these standard speeches it's like listening to Aaron Neville sing Happy Birthday to You, the song so clearly below the talents of the singer.
Yo-Yo Ma playing Three Blind Mice.
There's been a lot of flak about O descending into the ranks of the everyday, mortal politician.
Hey, folks. Honestly. What did you think he was?
Super-Pol?
He's a really gifted politician, always has been. I'm in his camp, but I'm not drinking Kool-Aid again for any of them, and neither should you.
Bad Christmas tonight, Barrow Street.
And our good friends Stolen Chair ramp it up this week with The Accidental Patriot at CSV. Pirates and sword-fights and singing and whatnot.
Lots of the whatnot, I'm told.
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8 comments:
John,
I am still not sure who to vote for. According to polls, if I vote for Hillary, that puts me in the over 50 female demographics.
If I vote for Obama, I am younger, black, and Baptist.
I want to be in the "tired of paying taxes" Demographic
I fixed the Eureka problem!!! Duct tape and a wire hanger, my friend
Lori
Before John uses the spy satelite to zap my wire hanger let me clarify paying taxes.
See, I don't mind paying taxes. I do love this country.
What I do mind is the government throwing money at situations and still not fixing problems.
I am tired of my money going for shit that doesn't matter or too lazy to care.
How hard is it people? Here are the priorities and when money runs out... that's it.
That's how it works in my house.
Sorry Billy, you will not be getting a new car when you turn 16.We can't afford it.
O.K. I could go on, but won't
Go ahead and zap my wire hanger now
Lori
Lori,
We had to lay-off or "dis-hire" or "downsize to the point of being beyond human perception" our tech staff and our Corporate Protection Squad (wetboys), so you should be fine for awhile.
Just try to keep it clean, lady.
We pay the lowest taxes in the industrial world, I'm told.
And you're not young, black and Baptist?
Is this not the Lori Hoeflinger I dated back in high school?
I remain, confused.
John, Susie Q and I will be there and be square this evening. And Lori, I agree completely. Taxes are a great concept, just not used the way I wish they were. So sad. :(
JC
When blaring Diana Ross or Donna Summers on the record player..... I was... a young black child. So yes I am still the same girl you dated in High School.
I did try to become Baptist, but got kicked out of the "Summer Carnival" for bringing beer and shots.
What's the BIG deal. Someone mentioned softball and I was all about it.
We Catholics like a good beverage.
Now don't get all jealous girls.
John's "dates" consisted of me picking him and the tab up. Oh and not to mention his band of thieves, he called friends.
But, I will tell you, something funny, weird and stupid usually followed.
Have a great day.
Lori
All true. She had the wheels and an actual job, so I just provided the jokes and a running commentary.
And to be fair, besides Christian and Bill and Scott and a few others, none of us were actual "thieves". We did a lot of breaking and entering, sure, but rarely for personal gain. We never thought it through that clearly, or we were just too high in the actual moment to remember the plan.
That's my recollection anyway.
John,
O.K. There was no thievery involved. Just trying to add to the story.
Although, I think we did steal some beer one time at a Christmas party by your house. You distracted them with your x-mas caroling, and I became the look-out.
And, to be fair, you did get a car. The radio only worked if you applied the brakes and opened the glove compartment at the same time. After awhile, I even got used to the door opening at random or the windshield wipers always on. You were happy to have wheels.
Didn't mean to dis your car.
Don't worry about Hillary, I have a feeling that the "super delegates" will save her. Why do we have "Super Delegates"?
Are we too stupid to elect the proper candidate?
I feel like it is a "backdoor" to skoot in someone. Ya know, us stupid people who stand in the long lines for the show, and only to find out that there was back entrance the whole time.
Just me thinking out loud
Have a great day
I'm wondering if that was the Posthumous Pinto or the Blue Meanie. Posthumous Pinto was a tough little car, got its back broken on a 24 hour drive back from Montana one summer and kept going for another year or two.
The Blue Meanie was my Dad's old Ford Fairmont, one of the ugliest, boxiest, least imaginatively designed models to ever roll off the factory floor. We called it The Minimal White Man Mobile as well, since it was the absolute automotive baseline you could drive around in St. Louis and pass as an Upright Citizen.
Two great cars, though.
And if it goes down to the Super Delegates, I think O has the edge. They don't want to turn off the massive flow of new voters and money coming into the party.
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