Conventional convention

We watched very little of the Democrat convention.   But, then, that's a family tradition.  There hasn't been anything remotely interesting in conventions of either party since the 70s when the smoke-filled backrooms were eliminated and the choice of candidate became a foregone conclusion.

Still, last night we caught Howard Dean's speech.   Bizarre as the man.   You have to wonder how low the Democrats wanna go to find a base.   Still, he is as strange as Teresa Kerry.   Strangest of all were the disjointed images from the floor where delegates waved their hands in time to the music.   It was weirdly like the party itself.   No more than two people appeared to share the rhythm.   It's like they all heard a different tune, barely making eye contact with each other, each in their own worlds, much like their party.   Organized it wasn't.

I keep hoping the Republicans will come up with something different.  Like banning red suits for women, a holdover from the power-for-women 1980s look that was always unflattering.   How many women do you know who wear red suits, for God's sake, let alone look good in the color?   It would be refreshing to see Dick Cheney in bluejeans, sans the lumberjack shirt look of Lamar Alexander that looked more calcuated than homespun.   Too, I would like to see the speakers focus less on the camera than Dick Gephardt last night.  With a zit to the left of his nose, he looked more than ever like Howdy Doody and his sometimes fixed stare at the camera was disconcerting.   It was for the benefit of the big screen television but it looked oddly like he was transfixed, mesmerized by some unseen offscreen human prompter, probably some guy from the Teamsters Union with the cue cards.

Conventions ought to have some suspense, but that went out in the 70s.   Conventions should have, too.   It isn't as if the voter is remotely interested in watching their candidate disappoint them.