BLURT GOES TO THE REPUBLICAN NATIONAL CONVENTION
Sep 03, 2008
The armies of the night will prevail... or will they?
BY BEN WESTHOFF
RNC Day 4: Spare some Change?
What do John Mellencamp, Bruce Springsteen and Heart have in common? They all want the Republicans to stop using their goddamn songs at rallies. Ann and Nancy Wilson reportedly sent a cease and desist letter to the McCain campaign after the RNC rocked "Barracuda" at the Xcel center last night. Depriving the candidate of this associate will hurt; after all, like your typical barracuda McCain is a little less than six feet long, not very nimble, hunts via ambush and possesses powerful jaws. (Another problem is that "All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You," while a powerful pro-life statement, just doesn't get folks fired up.)
So, ‘70s and ‘80s rockers don't like McCain, but does anyone else? No one hanging around the Minnesota State Capitol for the RNC final-day protests, that's for sure. Lacking the numbers of earlier rallies, they nonetheless gamely fired themselves up around mid-afternoon, using songs, factually-inaccurate diatribes, and free crumbly cookies and bananas, the latter of which came in small, gooey segments. I ate one, and then twenty minutes later became convinced I'd been dosed with LSD. Briefly I contemplated an alternate universe tea party featuring Michele Bachman and that female protester over there (the one calling the surrounding riot cops "cowards"); the ladies ate cucumber sandwiches and discussed clean coal and wind power. (Matter of fact T. Boone Pickens was there too!)
I soon realized my dizziness was probably due to lingering tear gas in the atmosphere and not acid, and followed the now-moving protesters towards downtown. The group was redirected almost immediately, however, by a line of police aiming (tear gas?) guns directly at our brains. The mass swung west and walked along St. Anthony Avenue, before being cut off again by a dozen or so cops on horses. The now-flummoxed protesters decided to plant their rear ends in the road and wait the situation out. I wasn't exactly clear to their aims; perhaps this was a sit-in to protest Piper Palin's spit-shining her little brother's hair?
Eventually the tear gas and concussion bombs came out again, and everyone scattered. (You can read a more detailed account of the clash here, which also reports on the assault of a pair of City Pages reporters.) That meant it was time those of us with press passes -- approximately 1/3 of the crowd -- to head back to the convention center, where Cindy McCain was holding court. She made it clear why so many people are in awe of her husband; not because he was able to withstand torture in a Vietnamese prison camp for five and a half years, but because he was able to trade his old wife in for a new one who was not only much younger and blonder, but whose pops hooked him up with a VP job at his mammoth beer distributorship to boot.
I really dug the video montage introducing McCain, which detailed his time spent in the camp and included a black and white video of him smoking a cigarette with one of his broken arms. One of the main themes of the intro and his speech was how his time in capture made him a less selfish person. When Victor Charlie offered him early release because his father was an admiral he said, "Hell no. I want four more years of torture!"
Although this, like many aspects of his story, is hard to believe, it's fair to say his reputation as a political iconoclast is well deserved. He has succeeded in politics not despite, but because of, his ability to piss off people in his own party and occasionally buck popular opinion. In 2000 he nearly captured the Republican nomination by dissing Christian conservatives and championing campaign finance reform. In 2008 he won despite being against drilling in ANWR. Once sympathetic to him, Democrats now complain he's fallen in line with the Bush tax cuts and taken on a real barracuda, I mean pit bull, of a right-wing running mate, but it seems unlikely a McCain presidency would resemble a Bush presidency. Schwarzenegger's terms as governor come more to mind; like Arnold, McCain would inherit a Democrat-controlled congress, and, with his desire to be remembered trumping an already nebulous party affiliation, would likely set his sites on historic change.
Ah, "change." The key word in this election cycle, espoused by everyone from dogmatic leftists (Barack Obama) to reactionary Mormons (Mitt Romney) to members of the most powerful political families in America (Hillary Clinton). McCain used the word repeatedly in his acceptance speech, though since he was attempting to play to the crowd his proposed policies sounded like Republican business as usual - school choice, loosening trade restrictions and strengthening private health care. On the last issue McCain is surely on the wrong side of history; Americans think the current system sucks, and unless you're planning to blow it up, no one really cares about your plans to tweak it.
Only when he looked the right-wing faithful in the eye and told them things they didn't want to hear - about campaign finance reform, about environmentalism, about how the "Contract for America" Republicans lost their way ("We let Washington change us") -- did he give hints as to why he's been so successful. But it was too little, too late. John McCain's shtick plays best when he's ruffling feathers, but this speech felt like a Heart concert. Not like an ass-kicking 1977 show where the Wilson sisters get all "Crazy on You" at a small club, but like a sell-out, cash-in comeback show decades later, where they play "Barracuda" for the thousandth time, before a crowd that knows all the words.
RNC Day 3: A Palin In The Ass
Sarah Palin's primetime speech last night was the most anticipated of the convention. John McCain wanted a "game changer" as his Vice Presidential pick, and, oh boy, did he get it. Since the minute he picked her, juicy bits of gossip, innuendo, and scandal have surfaced -- that her 17-year-old daughter Bristol, not she, birthed the down Syndrome newborn Trig (false); that Bristol herself was pregnant (true); that the Palins would make lemonade by marrying off Bristol hastily (true); and, finally, that the executive director of Jews for Jesus spoke recently at Palin's Wasilla Bible Church (also true, though the media has yet to really pounce on it).
That Palin looks unlike any politician we've seen fueled the anticipation as well. Whereas Hillary Clinton played down any sex appeal she may have, Palin plays it way up; for her speech she eschewed a pantsuit for a relatively short black skirt, shiny earrings, and librarian glasses. Quoth Jimmy Kimmel: "She looks like one of those women in the Van Halen videos who takes off her glasses, shakes out her hair, and then all of a sudden, she's in high heels and a bikini. All of a sudden, I am for drilling in Alaska."
Put it another way: There's a reason everybody believes this picture floating around the internet -- the one of her clad in an American flag bikini and holding a hunting rifle by a pool -- is real. (Sorry fellas, it's a photoshop fake.)
But though obviously a "game changer," it remained to be seen if Palin would adrenalize or deflate McCain's moribund campaign. Though wonks like Politico's Charles Mahtesian believe her family's red-neck affinities (snowmobiling, underage pregnancies, DUIs) will endear her to red and swing state voters, most everyone agreed she needs substance behind her image. After all, McCain has hammered Obama for his lack of experience, and Palin has even less than he does. And there have already been grumbles about her among the Republican base -- former Nixon speechwriter and Ferris Bueller educator Ben Stein, for one, isn't pleased. Meanwhile, Minnesota Governor/spurned VP pick Tim Pawlenty didn't even stick around for her speech.
So, would she deliver? After an introduction by Rudolph Giuliani -- in which he somehow compared running New York City to running Wasilla but didn't, to his credit, say "9/11" -- Palin took the stage to a warm, but not ecstatic, reception. She trotted out her already well-trod "You know the difference between a hockey mom and a pit pull? Lipstick!" line, and went on to list her accomplishments in elective office. Some of her points were salient, like canceling the "bridge to nowhere" and taking on the waste and cronyism of entrenched Alaskan politicians like the Murkowskis. Others, however, not so much. Though she spoke of being a deficit hawk, for example, folks like James Love have responded that her operating budget actually rose during her tenure. Others have noted that, should the price of oil slide, the state will be up shit creek. (Up shit fjord?)
Most of the Bud Ice drinking masses won't care about those details, of course -- just like they won't care about Obama's overwhelmingly leftist policies so long as they find him "genuine." But more than Obama has had to, Palin needed to appear presidential - not so much because she's a woman, but because she's backing up a guy that, what with his melanoma and inability to raise his arms above his head, could seemingly croak at any moment.
My gut feeling is that, in this regard, she didn't hack it. The applause she received was never particularly loud or fervent, and didn't approach anything McCain received upon his brief appearance after her speech. (And this is a guy right-wingers like Rush Limbaugh loathe.) If she couldn't sell herself completely to this friendly crowd, it seems doubtful her shtick played well across the country.
But this race is far from over, and Palin remains at the center of it. Republicans are hellbent on creating a backlash in her favor, predicting (probably correctly) that voters will rush to her defense if they feel the media is unfairly piling up on her or Democrats are taking cheap shots. (Much like Americans gave Bill Clinton sky-high poll numbers in the midst of his impeachment trial.) It now appears that even some former Hillary Clinton aides are joining the "sexism" chorus.
So trying to make predictions at this point is dubious. After all, a million more "game changing" events could still occur. Bristol's baby could come early. The Jews for Jesus story could bubble up. And, who knows - real Palin gun/bikini photos could surface, or even nude ones along the lines of those of German Chancellor Angela Merkel. Lord knows that would lock down the key Celebrity Skin demographic.
RNC Day 2: Zack de la Rocha vs. Marge Gunderson
This week we have our man Westoff firmly embedded in the ground forces digging trenches at Minneapolis-St. Paul.
So much rage in downtown St. Paul, and yet not nearly enough Rage. In town to perform at the Target Center on Wednesday, Rage Against The Machine was to play a free, unannounced show at the State Capitol on Tuesday evening - at least according to teenagers on Twitter, in any case.
The day after the convention's riotous opening ceremonies, folks who didn't have to go back to work (students, hippies and anarchist punks, joined by about 500 police officers) gathered on the capitol lawn for something called Ripple Effect. Most would call it a "free concert" featuring acts like Michael Franti, Dead Prez, Anti-Flag and the unfortunately named Wookie Foot, but organizers preferred "events" "embracing the core values of the environmental and social justice movements, with a collective understanding that the solutions to these problems will require us to break down issue and generational barriers."
I'm not sure if any issue barriers were broken down that day, but the great unwashed chillaxed as hard as they could, playing with those green "floating" orb things, attempting (unsuccessfully) to double dutch and meditating in a giant rectangle. Phone numbers were exchanged, utopian alternate universes were contemplated, and the world's only "Nader/Gonzales ‘08" sticker was applied to a backpack.
It seemed that everybody was still exhausted from the previous day's protest marches, window smashing and urine stockpiling. You know leftists are tired when they can't even get pumped up by a Medea Benjamin speech. But when word of Rage's imminent arrival began to leak across the internet, the assembled (or at least those who could afford an iPhone) began to perk up. The crowd began to balloon around 6, when folks got off from their jobs at the skate shop and the juice bar and made their way downtown.
Anti-Flag had taken the stage in a flurry of black and pink, and were now working the crowd into a frenzy with brief bits of inspiration like, "The world sucks. So let's party!" Folks moshed like it was 1999, and bassist/hype man Chris #2 dropped hint after hint that something big was about to happen. When they departed the stage they left all their instruments; the idea was that Rage would pick them up and play four songs.
Though you wouldn't think too many of St. Paul's finest would have copies of Evil Empire (or be Twitter savvy), the cops were wise to the plan, and -- since they didn't have the manpower to accommodate such a hugely-popular act - moved to halt the proceedings. Upon Rage's backstage arrival at 6:30, they were detained by a group of Minnesota State Troopers, of all people. As riot guard police and bike cops surrounded the premises, a trooper wearing one of those sweet flying saucer hats (she looked something like Marge Gunderson in Fargo) kindly informed Zack de la Rocha, Tom Morello and the like that they didn't have the necessary permit to go on stage.
Rocha didn't get worked up about it - dude must meditate his ass off - and instead, while the chanting crowd screamed for blood (or at least for "Testify"), he plotted with his mates a way to keep the crowd from killing anyone while simultaneously creating a sense of, um, collective understanding about breaking down generational barriers.
The band exited past the police behind the stage and weaved out to the front of the crowd, where they implored their delighted minions to take a seat. Most everyone immediately sat; one suspects if Rocha had asked them to poop in their pants they would have done it. Next, bullhorn in hand, the group led those within ear shot in a short set of acapella sing-a-longs. Call it Rage karaoke -- sans machine, of course.
After twenty minutes or so of this, the band implored the assembled to rise, and they lead them in a march towards the Xcel center, where former lazy-presidential-candidate Fred Thompson was preparing to address another group of dogmatic people. The bike cops pedaled nervously alongside the marchers (I'm going to suggest there were about 3000 people), and guards wearing pads and gas masks stood nervously along the route. No windows were smashed -- that I saw anyways -- but when they reached the perimeter of the buffer zone in front of the convention center, folks began shaking and rattling the fences. The police gave them a few warnings and then, according to reports from the front line, began firing off tear gas and those little bombs that make a lot of noise.
So, party over. Everybody hopped aboard their fixed-gear bikes or skateboards and headed back home, just in time to catch Big Brother 10.
In conclusion, it's fair to say that the day two protests felt less like a post-apocalyptic movie and more like a professional wrestling match. Though bloodlust was in the air, no one really got injured, and observers couldn't help feeling as if the whole thing was just a little bit scripted.
RNC DAY 1: Protesters, Palin, and Paranoia
Let's get one thing straight: I did not get Sarah Palin's daughter pregnant. Although I have been to Alaska and enjoy the occasional Mooseburger, I did not have sex with that woman. Girl.
I will admit, however, to being wild and on the prowl on the first day of the Republican National Convention, held in downtown St. Paul. The atmosphere was almost exactly like that of a post-apocalyptic movie, with giant fences separating the privileged controlling elite from the screaming masses, some so poor they apparently can't afford deodorant and even rummage through dumpsters for bits of tofu burgers. (Red eyed folks in tattered clothes stumbled around as well, although they were less "infected" than "sprayed with tear gas.")
‘Twas a different scene entirely inside the Xcel Energy Center, where the Minnesota Wild normally play hockey, and which adjoins the hall where my high school graduation ceremony was held. The convention floor was as quiet as a mouse, or perhaps a rat, as President Bush and VP Cheney had opted out of their speeches to go battle Hurricane Gustav. (To quote The Church Lady: "How conveeeenient.").This left us only with Cindy McCain, who spoke about the relief effort, and Laura Bush, who spoke about her battle fighting an addiction to Capri Menthol Lights cigarettes (just kidding).
The, um, elephant in the room that the 17-year-old unmarried daughter of McCain's unvetted VP pick, Alaska governor babe Sarah Palin, was preggo. This was the third game-changer of the week, following the hurricane and the initial announcement that the VP slot was going to a creationist nut job who until recently was the mayor of Cicely, Alaska or some such. (Speaking of which, somebody really needs to get John Corbett off of those Applebee's commercials and back in the DJ booth where he belongs.) Word from nearby adjoining red states was that the baby bump could spark a poll numbers bounce, leaving the mainstream media liberal elite scratching their bald spots.
Outside, anarchists busted a few windows and declined my interview requests. (They think they're so cool.) The rest of the 10,000 protesters marched in well-behaved and confusing fashion. I for one never did understand what running your car on vegetable oil, universal health care and medical marijuana have to do with "Israel out of Palestine" and the war in Iraq, but whatever. Riot-geared up police lined the streets; most of them were apparently from out of town because no one could tell me how to get to Harriet Island, where the Service Employees International Union protest concert was being held across the Mississippi river.
I eventually made it over there, though, only to find that the performer I was most looking forward to seeing had canceled. (Someone speculated that Lupe Fiasco is a disenchanted Hillary supporter won over to McCain by the Palin pick, but that's probably not accurate). Though fairly subdued, the crowd seemed to enjoy political ramblings and occasional guitar strumming of folks like Tom "The Nightwatchman" Morello, Billy "why couldn't I have been born 80 years ago goddammit" Bragg, the delicate, beautiful Allison Moorer and her hideous beast of a husband, Steve Earle. (Apparently Mos Def and The Pharcyde came on later, but I was too busy leaving comments on the Stuff White People Like blog to pay attention.)
Morello tells me beforehand that he's not there to support Barack so much as to support the union and fuck with Republicans. "I feel much more comfortable on the other side of the barbed wire fence lobbing musical Molotov cocktails in," he says. "The only candidate that I've publicly endorsed in my life is Cindy Sheehan when she was running against Nancy Pelosi."
He and Earle became buddies about five years ago on the "Tell Us the Truth Tour" (something about media consolidation, abolishing the death penalty and organic arugula, probably). They bonded over their mutual love of Lord Of The Rings, annoying Billy Bragg by watching the six hour extended version of The Two Towers over and over on the tour bus. Since then the pair have continued their activist ways, although their actions have not always been appreciated.
"I witnessed Al and Tipper Gore practically levitate to avoid having their picture taken with me," remembers Earle. "[Al] was speaking at a place called The Belcourt Theatre in Nashville, and a couple friends of mine tried to drag me into this photo op. You should have seen the look of terror on their faces. They were horrified. I'm sure the camera was tracked down immediately after I left."
Recalls Morello: "At the SEIU mayday rally in Chicago, Mayor Daley was on stage waiting to speak after I finished a rousing version of Woody Guthrie's ‘This Land Is Your Land,' complete with all the censored verses. It turns into a real class-war anthem, and at the end of it I asked everybody up on stage to jump up in down in solidarity with workers' rights. I think the mayor was kind of caught of guard, but he did jump up and down, to his credit."
The pair certainly seemed a bit more committed than, say, Atmosphere emcee Slug, who like the protesters downtown has a tendency to stray a bit off message. "I don't rock their name in interviews or anything like that," he says of the union, "but I'm not necessarily against what they stand for." That's quite an endorsement. He goes on: "Quite honestly, it didn't have to be this cause, it could have been fucking Haagen Dazs. If they were out there throwing a festival across the river from the RNC, and they had Tom Morello, I still would have done it."
After the show, I ghostwalked a bit more around the perimeter of the convention center, 28 Weeks Later-style, and then went back inside. Bill O'Reilly announced on one of the overhead screens that Obama's convention bounce had all but evaporated, and the race was now neck and neck. I think it's fair to say Sarah Palin's grandfetus is holding all the cards right now.
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