The DNC convention is, simply, spring break for Democrats. Denver in August is like Cancun in March, minus Señor Frog's and wet t-shirt contests. People come here to drink. And drink. And when they're done drinking they network for a little while. And then they start drinking again. It's a convention lubricated by sweet, sweet liquor, the cause and solution to all of life's problems (to quote Homer). (Simpson).
The speeches have been great. Well, the ones I've seen. The Governor of Montana's speech was like an awesome late night infomercial for Democratic policy initiatives. And Hillary's speech was just great. She clearly endorsed Obama, and clearly stated that for the Democrats to win in November they need to unite behind Obama. That was nice. Although her orange pant suit was odd. It looked like something a Japanese traffic cop would wear in a Beastie Boys video.
But back to the liquor...
We were just stuck in a traffic jam on a side street at 1 a.m because people were running across the street going from bar to club to karaoke bar to bar to club. More power to them. Go to Denver. Have fun. Talk politics. Get drunk. Have sex with a stranger in a seedy hotel room. I mean, why not?
Should politics solely exist in a platonic, rarefied, patrician environment? Or should politics at times involve beer and bad hotel sex for government employees and lobbyists? Even the most noble and well-intentioned Democrats need to have bad, beer-fueled hotel sex every now and then, right? I do think that the high altitude (5,280 feet above sea level--at least that's what the sign on the highway said) is making convention-goers a bit crazier than usual.
High altitudes enhance the effects of alcohol and make people drunk (or, to employ contemporary parlance, crunk). So, people are running around crunk. Again, good for them.
An aside: The security at the convention is fucking nuts. A friend of mine (a petite blonde woman who works for a progressive organization) was wrestled to the ground by 6 cops/security-people because she had left her credentials in her hotel room. Maybe the cops in Denver should lay off the caffeine/meth/diet-pills/sugar-cereals while they're working the convention? When my friend said, truthfully and innocently, I left my credentials in my hotel room, the cops yelled, Shut up and keep your hands where we can see them!
Er, I appreciate the need for heightened security, but I don't know if it takes 6 storm-troopers to wrestle a petite blonde Democrat to the ground to find out that she left her convention pass in her hotel room.
OK, more tomorrow.
Moby will be covering the Democratic National Convention exclusively for Blender.com, where this was originally posted