The Republican National Convention!
The heavily anticipated Super Bowl of the GOP! Every four years, the best and brightest of the party of Abraham Lincoln assemble to praise their selected champion before he strides proudly into battle for his place in history.
Surely, every conservative would want a front-row seat. Every true American wanting to see the glorious process of our electorate would be there in person. Anybody who believes in small government, low taxes, national security and self-governance would find a way to Cleveland to bow before their anointed king sent from Jesus to lead the people to the once-great promised land.
And that they did.
What a time to be alive! Imagine being one of the lucky few to be able to bear witness to the next president of the free world! They’ll tell their children and their grandchildren about waiting in those long lines and scraping together what they could to pay for tickets. Tickets that must’ve ranged from $500,000–$3 million per seat due to the relevance and impact this event had on the future of our species. I’m sure their pilgrimage was unbearable.
With every hotel booked from (I’m guessing) Cleveland to East China, logic would assume that attendees of the RNC were forced to build their own shantytowns next to highways in order to reach the convention center in time to fight the battalions of people dead set on completing their mission to Mecca. Anything to lay eyes on Donald J. Trump.
The candidate with all the answers. The candidate with the vision. Definitely not a reality television star who became a candidate to sell more hotels. Somebody who cares about the common people. Definitely not somebody who can’t locate Iran on a map. No, their hero is a lion of a man. Proud, beautiful and resolute. Somebody with enough integrity to divert attention from the time he admitted to thinking his daughter was hot on national television.
But everybody knows The Donald is perfect. The real story here is the fanfare.
Such a unthinkably massive audience reflects how strongly the 2016 Republican party resonates with the union. The evidently growing behemoth of colors, creeds, ages, sexual preferences and financial stability clearly shows it’s the party of tomorrow. No way was this a sparsely attended gathering of malnourished yokels. No way could the attendance of this event be overshadowed by, say, a performance by Criss Angel or a really hot open mic.
No, people will remember the 2016 Republican National Convention as the convention that broke records in its size and inclusiveness. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that the convention was so warm and accepting that the Quicken Loans arena had to install 55 buttresses around the coliseum to stop the outer walls from exploding from the tidal wave of Americans fighting tooth and nail to squeeze but a pinky finger into their new American church.
However, it wasn’t all spectacular. The unfortunate souls that were trampled under the screaming hordes of our country’s gargantuan conservative base will be destined to haunt this sacred building for generations. Janitors will tell stories about sweeping late at night and hearing, faintly, “We want trump” or “Lock her up” or “I don’t care if Melania plagiarized.” Fingers crossed they never pass on to the next plane. If there truly is a higher power (there is, and it’s Donald J. Trump), their spirits will be forced to relive their last day over and over until the end of time. I think we can all agree that would be a fate sweeter than heaven.
Once the city is done cleaning the Quicken Loans Arena with what we have to think are military-grade hoses, the Republican Party will begin preparing for the next night. I hope each and every one of you earn tickets in the battle pits.