Didn’t conventions used to be happy, celebrations of the pride of a party, displaying optimism for the future? It was a place to roll out, and spell out, the candidates’ plans for running the country. But if you don’t really have any plans, I guess you want to deflect attention from that. If your candidate is a hopeless, lying, scheming, amoral, race-baiting, plagiarizing, ghost-written, double-crossing git, I guess you want people to think of something else. Morning in America? More like twilight’s last gleam. I predict sales of anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medication will spike this week.
Used to be, when I’d hear “Happy Days Are Here Again” played at Democratic conventions, I’d roll my eyes. Now I can’t wait to hear it. The Repubs are setting the stage for the Dems to be the party of hope, of optimism, of solid plans and a better future.
But wait, you say, the GOP (now a wholly-owned subsidiary of Donald J. Trump) still has three more nights to turn things around. For you, I have a great deal for shares in a yuge, beautiful bridge in Brooklyn. Believe me.