America turned a page last night.
Story is still the same, so far, we'll see what happens in November, but by Gob, that was a Moment.
A black couple smiling and waving on a stage in Denver while 17 thousand white people go crazy and no sports or music on anyone's mind.
Ms McGee and I were quite moved. The cat, an arch-Republican, wouldn't even look at the screen.
Evening started with Johnny Mac speaking to what appeared to be the graveyard shift of a Wal-Mart in Kenner, Louisiana.
About a hundred or so people stood awkwardly in some room. Johnny started his remarks with a naked plea to Clinton supporters, thanking her for expanding the opportunities his three daughters can now pursue.
He didn't mention that under his administration they will not be able to avail themselves of the opportunity to undergo a safe and legal abortion if such a terrible decision is ever there's to make, but what the hell.
Out on the road yesterday I saw a bumper sticker on a truck:
It's not a Choice, it's a Child.
My own response would be:
So it's not a Woman, it's a Womb.
But back to McCain.
How old is this man? He's starting to look like one of those animotronic Presidents down in Disneyland, moving weirdly and croaking out pre-recorded speeches. Last night he kept death-rattling:
"That's not change we can believe in."
And then flashing that tight, somehow inappropriate grin of his. If this is their big anti-Obama mantra, then I think we're going to be fine in November, because I got tired of it by the third rattle-croak.
He's looking a lot like a traveling version of a Hall of Presidents dummy and a little like the local mortician with a little too much rouge, lipstick and eye shadow.
He's just not looking good, is what I'm saying.
And then, in the middle of his speech, 9:00 PM EST, the anchors cut him off and announce that Obama is the presumptive nominee. All eyes switch to some bunker here in NYC, awaiting Clinton's words. In a scene you could never film because the symbolism is too obvious, Terry McAuliffe whips up a crowd of a couple of thousand, introduces Senator Clinton as the next President of the United States of America and...
She hadn't heard, or he missed the cue or something. He leaves the podium, wades through the confused but still cheering crowd, goes through a curtain and then...yes, there she is and Bill and Chelsea and the script goes back to normal. But for a few moments there, the podium was empty. The final missed cue of a campaign of missed cues.
Then Hillary steps up and gives the best speech of her career.
Everyone just watching and trying to read the tea leaves.
She can count, her advisers can count, right?
She's not sitting at the Big Desk this time around.
So what does she want?
What, for god's sake?
Just tell us so we can move on and start fighting the Mortician.
Please, god no, don't seriously ask for the VP post. Fucks up Obama's whole move. He needs some old, middle-of-the-road white governor or Congressman with military service to really seal the deal with middle America.
Spitfire likes Murtha. I'd go with that.
But Hillary, come home. We need you here in Rat City.
And after Hillary's beautiful speech, the bar was raised. Here's the greatest living orator in America accepting an historic mantle. He's got to do the Sermon on the Mount just to get a C.
And man, he knocked it out of the park. He and Michelle did a little knuckle bump before she stepped away and he opened his mouth and started saying "Thank you."
And that was it for me. The speech was amazing, but that moment was it. Obama is 46. He is my generation. He grew up in my world. And he's smart and dedicated and all like that.
Johnny is my Dad's cool friend. Obama is my high-school buddy.
I'm tired of my Dad's friends running the world. I want to see how we handle it.
Quite a televised evening.
Great day in Philly jumping around with a bunch of dancer-types. Deeply funny stuff. Meeting up with Eric Sanders today, talking about the Public Works Project and then back to Philadelphia on Friday.
Light week, thank ye, Jesus.
Well done to all behind Senator Obama.
Let's start dancing with the old guy.