 |
Do not adjust your sets Happy Talk, Keep Talking Happy Talk...By Rick Horowitz
PHILADELPHIA -- George W. wanted an uplifting convention? He's got an uplifting convention. You've never seen so much uplifting. This is the Wonderbra of conventions. Very appealing, and just a little bit...artificial. There's a room around here somewhere, I'm sure of it. Somewhere deep inside the First Union Center, down one of the countless corridors, behind one of those big blue curtains, there's a room where the real Republican convention is going on. Tom DeLay is in this room, standing at a lectern and snarling at President Clinton and the Democrats, just like in the old days. Dick Armey is in this room, declaring a holy war on fuzzyheaded liberals who've brought this country to the very brink of ruination. In fact, the entire Republican establishment is in this room -- office holders and office seekers and party functionaries alike -- not to mention the occasional resident of the party's famous fringe regions, all bounding to the microphone to see which of them can toss off the sleaziest Lewinsky joke, which of them can make the nastiest crack about Hillary. The crowd eats it up. (There's a crowd in this room, too.) The crowd roars its approval of every angry word, every hot-button slogan. There are no cameras in this room, of course. Unlike, for instance, the little ready-for-prime-time, on-their-best-behavior smoochfest that's being fed to the nation every evening from the main stage. Dubya didn't want any angry stuff getting in the way of all the feel-good stuff, but if these slash-and-burn types don't have someplace all their own where they can do what comes naturally, they'll explode. No doubt about it -- the cleanup crew will be scraping GOP body parts off the ceiling. That room is around here somewhere, I'm absolutely convinced of it. I'll keep looking. In the meantime, though... Sure is a lot of the feel-good stuff out on the main stage. If it's not a blind mountain climber, it's a courageous teacher or a plucky immigrant or a perky little singer. Every one of them has a story to tell, and the Republicans would much rather you spend your week snuggling up to the whole inspiring bunch of them rather than to, say, Tom DeLay, who is not, strictly speaking, even remotely snuggle-able. And the other thing: Have you ever seen such a diverse crowd at a Republican convention? Everywhere you look, there's another black face or brown face, or even entire assortments of black faces or brown faces. This is, the spin machine wants you to know, the new, inclusive Republican Party. Of course, the black faces and the brown faces are mostly the entertainment -- the speakers and singers and dancers and such. But don't the delegates, in all their vast and overwhelming whiteness, give them a nice warm welcome anyway? Don't they listen to their stories and applaud at all the good parts? Don't they sway to the music, and even try to clap on the beat, when they can find the beat? Isn't that enough diversity for one campaign? And the music! Do you think the music choices are an accident? Recycled Motown. The soulful sounds of Philly. Gospel groups in flowing robes, hip-hop artists in shiny leather. ("Renewing America's Purpose -- Yo!") There may not be a lot of minorities in the party, but when the party wants to party, it knows just where to turn: Those colored folks can perform. I wouldn't call it slumming exactly. I'd prefer to think of it as the delegates' Junior Year Abroad, a little exposure to a foreign culture -- nothing catching, nothing lasting. And perfect for the photo album. Posted 8/1/00. "Rick's"
is perfect for your list of favorite sites -- come back soon for even
more convention doings!
|
  |
Rick Horowitz