My Abortion, 'Tis of Thee
By Daniel Greenfield
SultanKnish.Blogspot.com
If a convenient time machine were to deposit a
Roman citizen, circa 140 or so, in Charlotte, he
would have no trouble understanding what was going
on. Our Roman might not understand a word of what
was being said, but he would be able to take one
look at the garish costumes, the hysterical air of
self-congratulation worn by men and women who have
accomplished absolutely nothing in life, and the
clownish theatrics and realize exactly what was
going on. "Oh no, not again," would be the last
thing he would think just before being lobotomized
by a loose heel from Nancy Pelosi.
If bankrupting the country, destroying its
economy and using its legal documents to roll joints
wasn't bad enough, the people responsible for all
this thought it would be a fine idea to make their
national convention about abortion and gay marriage.
It was either that or any other random thing that
will hit the right buttons on the sort of people who
leave their buttons exposed to the air.
The old Democratic convention looked like some music
video director's idea of Olympus. The new one looks
like the stage for a concert, something popular,
noisy and lip-synched. Any minute now some musician
who used to be a waiter two weeks ago before going
professionally viral will slink out on stage and
begin making mouth movements to recorded music while
digital fireworks go off in the background.
This is MTV politics designed by those who don't
understand that MTV is over and that they're over.
Their fifteen minutes are up and so are their four
years. Cinderella won't marry the prince and spend
another four years bankrupting the country. The
trend that swept this mob into office is headed the
other way and their desperate attempts to stay cool
are as pathetic as they are hopeless.
The Democratic National Convention is swarming with
rabidly enthusiastic people who are hyped up about
things in the way that only the professionally
cheerful are. The message is that everyone is happy
to be here, repeated at decibel volumes and with
simultaneous sign language translation, which is the
surest sign that no one is happy to be here at all.
There's a moment in every party when no one knows
anymore why they are at the party or what the point
of the party is. The party is just there and they're
there and they're doing their best to pretend to be
having fun, but worryingly they're not sure what fun
is anymore. There's just noise, balloons and lots of
bright colors. Someone makes a speech and everyone
applauds because it's the thing to do. And everyone
stays because that's also the thing to do. That's
the Convention in a nutshell.
Garish, loud and out of sync with the country.
That's not just Pelosi or Debbie Wasserman-Schultz,
it's the entire ridiculous affair full of pols who
manage to look sweaty and haggard at the same time
trying to remember their lines. While a nation of
unemployed and barely employed watch hoping for
economic solutions, they are treated to bizarre
costumes and even more bizarre speeches by a party
that is so deep inside its statistical bubble that
it will run an abortion convention if it wins it
another one tenth of one percent in a crucial swing
state.
But none of this is really for the hoi polloi
sighing wearily while thinking of the long day
waiting for them tomorrow. This is for the money men
and women, for the grass roots activists in 600
dollar shoes who want to be reassured that this
party deserves their money and their inappropriate
use of public resources for get out the vote
operations. And what they want is abortion and gay
rights, not because they really believe in either
one, but because they like trendy things.
Obama may be a Marxist, but he isn't the kind who
owns two suits like Vlad Lenin. He's the kind that
people with more money than taste like. And the
entire convention is a tribute to that vulgarity of
the spirit and the senses, an aesthetic armageddon
in which every element, including the people, seems
designed for mass seizures and mass suicides.
The common man will get Michelle Obama, Bill Clinton
and Barry delivering the best speeches that the best
money can buy. But this party isn't really for them,
it's the last hurrah of people who expect to lose
because they have chosen losers to lead them. This
isn't a winner's convention, it's Custer's Last
Stand with balloons and lifelike politician puppets.
It's the blowout that will rid the Democrats of some
of their dead weight, like Debbie Wasserman-Schultz,
while keeping them competitive enough with target
groups that they can blame their defeat on
discrimination, rather than a popular revolt against
their failed economic policies.
What the Democratic National Convention, 2012
edition, is really meant to accomplish is create a
narrative where Obama lost, not because of the
economy, but because he committed to liberal values,
because he went all out on gay marriage, abortion
and illegal immigration, and liberals failed to back
him up. The story will not be that the election was
a referendum on economics, but a way for the white
majority to disenfranchise the voices of feminists,
gays and minorities. It is the story that they will
carry into their battle to retake Congress in 2014
and their attack on the White House in 2016.
Obama is too stupid to understand that the
convention isn't there for him, it's there for the
one woman who didn't show up. Hillary Clinton. It's
why Bill Clinton will get up there and cheerfully
tell everyone to win one for the zipper, because he
has already won. And the guy who should have been
carrying his bags and getting him his coffee has
lost. This is Hillary's convention. Her empty chair
is the one that sets the stage for her comeback. And
in 2016, when Obama walks out on the stage on the
second day to tell everyone that Hillary will
continue his work, he finally will be carrying their
bags.
In his dressing room, Obama is still dancing around
to "Eye of the Tiger" on his Zune, psyching himself
up for the clash of egos. But Romney isn't playing
that game, neither is anyone else. Obama's idea of
achievement is that of a man who has never achieved
anything. The answer is always to push harder, so
long as someone else is doing the pushing. Walking
egos don't believe in the forces of history and
don't understand that before people vote, they don't
check commercials, they check their wallets. Walking
egos don't understand that people, even people who
work for the government, who are proud to wear the
scarlet D, see politicians as employees selected to
do a job. And that in the privacy of the booth, they
will vote for change.
No campaign is inevitable, but people are not tools
in the hands of politicians, politicians are tools
in the hands of people. That is a dangerous truth
that the big men and women are partying to escape in
Charlotte. This is their masque of the red death
where the radicals party like it's 2009 and the
shift against their policies hadn't happened yet.
And some of them understand that they have reached
the end of their political journey. After this the
culling will begin and just as after Kerry's loss,
it will not be pretty.
The Obamas were never anything but tools in the
hands of men and women who were also tools in
someone else's hands. This isn't a matter of
conspiracy theories, it's a matter of politics.
Obama was a tool that some people and organizations
used to get things that they wanted done. They
burned through him and burned him in the last year
because they knew that his usefulness was nearing
its end. They aren't done, but they are moving on
and it's only the chumps still putting money in the
Hopier and Changier tin. It's the chumps partying on
television and having an enforced good time.
There are two types of trends. Capital T Trends and
small case trends. The Obamas thought that their
mastery of the small case trend had also made them
masters of capital T Trends. They were wrong. The
capital T Trend is not about what people are
manipulated into doing, it's the larger forces of
history driven by survival instinct and necessity.
It's the ocean that swamps the wave.
The Party is over but the party is just beginning.