Fear and loathing in NYC

I suppose that if I strive to be consistent then I must comment on last night at the RNC, but I have to tell you, this is testing me. 

But before I do, in the interest of fairness, I want you to check out Remo.  Obviously, we exist on different sides of the tracks, but he is brilliant.  I can respect someone who I disagree with when they write as well as he does.

I'm a little concerned about Zell Miller.  He seems like a very angry old man.  I'm happy that he is retiring this year, because I think he needs to go somewhere and smell the roses for a while.  Zell fits right in to the message of the RNC this year, which is nothing else matters except 9/11.  There's no point in talking about the economy, jobs or the environment because if W isn't re-elected, we're all gonna die anyway.

As I listened to Zell, I tried to imagine a Rick Santorum or a Ben Nighthorse Campbell at the rostrum at the DNC last month, turning his back on his lifelong party (wait, I just remembered that Campbell already did this a few years ago, good thing he's off to smell the roses this year as well), and what exactly the GOP would say about it afterwards.  It ain't pretty.

Zell's main message was that John Kerry doesn't like weapons, and thus if he were President he'd send our troops into battle with "spitballs."  Two things, Zell: first, you moron, any vote Kerry made fifteen years ago concerning defense was an "us vs. them" situation, where the spending on defense would surely be at the expense of needed programs, and second, as I explained Monday, Kerry's weapon of choice is clearly the waffle.

But I digress.  Kudos for the tunnel vision, Zell.  Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.  And make sure you fly that Georgia state flag high when you get back home.  The South will rise again.

As for Cheney, well, he did just fine.  His programmers can pat themselves on the back.  His nuts and bolts are holding up just fine.  Once again, don't tell me anything about the future except WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE IF W IS NOT RE-ELECTED!  Nothing else matters.

So tonight we wait for the big event.  In my dream world, W keeps it short.  He walks out, holds up a big "9" in his right hand, "11" in his left, waits for the crowd to stop cheering (which will take about 30 minutes) and then keeps his speech to one word:

BOO!

I'll come back tomorrow, only because I strive to be consistent.