Tuesday, August 26, 2008

What a party...

This is an post I had written around the middle of last week. Kevin hit me until I bled and then left savage, disgusting messages on my mom's answering machine until I added this post. I supposed I deserved it. Enjoy:

Perhaps there is a sense of unity that fast approaches as soon as those balloons drop. Maybe not. Rallies, for years, have always united the many behind what the few seem to believe. The Democratic National Convention is the same. Tonight, by some sort of grace I've neither earned nor expected, I hope to attend tonight's convention in the Pepsi Center here in Denver.

For those few of you stateside who care to peruse our blog, you may me unaware: we have a almost ludicrous following in southern Indonesia, are stars of a underground animated television show in Tehran and we've even been banned on Red China's interweb-superhighway. Kevin, of course, secured the Iranian and island bloc on his trip to Europe this summer (Christ knows how). I am responsible for the Asian censors.

That being said, I feel obligated to explain to those unfamiliar with American culture just exactly why the fuck anyone should care about these conventions; the good Sen. Obama, after all, as the nomination "all sewn up" already. The honest and frank answer is that identifying any sort of "American Culture" is about as possible as driving with your parking break on or enjoying the movie Mask, staring Cher. This perhaps will be taken up in another post however. For the moment, consider Americans like schools of fish: we like shiny things and free meals, no matter how much we really pay for it.

First formed during the French Revolution, the National Convention was a coming together of concerned parties in order to address common grievances, success, baguettes, what have you. Today the DNC must take place in order for a bunch of people who represent states you'd never EVER care to visit--Kansas, Mississippi, Oklahoma, Guam, for example--come to voice to the world that which we already fucking know. "We Choose Barack Obama," they will gleefully cry! Bully for them. We already knew that. Now give me back that 100 million we spent on all these fucking balloons.

Volunteers and delegates have clamored around my city for 2 days now feeling entitled, like some sick-batch of prom moms, feeling they deserve to take part in Democracy. To take part in a choice that was made months ago. All the while we have thrown money towards a festival of tom-fuckery that really accomplishes nothing.

If Obama is elected, here is the first "CHANGE" that will happen: Obama will be fucking recognized by my damn spell check.

Goverment = culture.

Out of the Silent Planet We Are

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