Daniel Greenfield - My Abortion, 'Tis of Thee

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.

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