blog 4 from denver.
ok, blog? i’ve said it before, but ‘blog’ is probably the least attractive word in the english language.
like ‘blech’ meets ‘clog’. and doesn’t ‘blogging’ sound like some weird dutch fetish practice
involving cheese? maybe there’s a section on craig’s list, ‘d&d free bbw into blogging and
other cheese-play. must send picture.’
but i digress. the people in the pepsi
center just gave bill clinton the biggest rockstar reception i’ve ever been witness to.
it was like he was bono mixed with the pope mixed with jenna jameson mixed with a guy driving an ice cream truck on the hottest day of summer. these palpable waves of love flowing from the delegates
to president clinton, and he seemed happy but vaguely annoyed that his devoted crowd
wouldn’t sit down and let him speak. and his speech was spot on, pointing out that after 8 years of running/ruining the country
the gop probably don’t deserve another 4 more years, and he also very clearly endorsed obama.
nice.
hillary and bill both gave great speeches, thus cementing their respective places in the
dem firmament(at least judging by the reaction of the people in the pepsi center).
earlier in the day i went to an event at brown’s palace(which sounds like some weird berlin
club for shit fetishists, but is actually the fancy hotel in denver where the big-wig politicians
are all staying)and i spent some time watching the political machine while drinking coffee(yes, i used
to own a tea shop but i love coffee. i often joke that i like my coffee like i like my women, cold and bitter. ha ha. it’s a joke. i don’t really like cold and bitter coffee).
the lobby at brown’s palace of scat fetishists was filled with, well, lobbyists. how fitting. people from the tory party in the uk
were there watching the american political process up close, and everyone else was either
a friend of obama or a kennedy or a lobbyist or a fundraiser or a friend of a fundraiser or a movie star or a politician. i don’t know what pheromones
are released when professional politicos meet up to eat fried bananas and drink coke, but the
brown palace lobby was rife with them. ‘them’ being the pheromones. i guess that’s the sound
the king of egypt made when he was stinky: pheromones. sorry. that was a terrible pun. mea culpa.
so if you’re in denver and you want to watch politicians and their acolytes in non-stop-party-machine action then you should go to the lobby of the brown palace hotel and eat fried bananas with them.
really, for some reason they were all eating fried bananas.
one of the strange things about the convention is the disparity between the actual convention
and how it’s being covered on tv. friends of mine are writing to me about images on tv of
contentious demonstrations and taser-wielding police and unrest and etc.
the truth is that denver’s kind of peaceful. but i guess that peaceful denver doesn’t
exactly make for good tv coverage, whereas a couple of hippies getting tasered makes
for good ratings.
there are cops and security guards everywhere, but more often than not they just look bored, standing
around wondering whether the skinny white kid in the ‘iowans for obama’ t-shirt is a potential terrorist.
no, he’s probably just a kid from iowa in an ill-fitting t-shirt.
lots of cops. lots of security. and they all seem bored. which might explain why they’re jumping
at the chance to taser hippies and wrestle ladies to the ground for not having security badges.
to make my blogging(what a disgusting word) more interesting i should probably write about some celebrity sightings since i’ve been here, but celebrity name-dropping
makes me uncomfortable. how about this: there are celebrities here in denver and they’re
really famous and interesting and they have great lives and get free clothes and have way more
fun than the rest of us can even conceive of and when they’re not attending political conventions
they’re having phenomenal orgies on their private planes that are also yachts made out of
a new type of alloy that makes gold and platinum look like old dirt.
yes, celebrities are here. hanging out. eating fried bananas. hosting events. being celebrities.
i’m sure that more respectable journalists are happily documenting the movements of celebrities
in denver, whereas i write about angel dust and cheese fetishists and bad puns.
that’s why i’m not a professional journalist.
i’m just a dumb musician with a computer and an internet connection and too much time on his
hands.
ok, i’m getting long-winded. and i have to head out to a shep fairey/moveon party where
death cab for cutie and clap your hands say yeah and a bunch of other people are supposed to be playing. it should be fun. a crowded clusterfuck. but a fun clusterfuck. and shep fairey is awesome.
and then, later, i’m dj’ing a dnc/obama fundraiser at the church, where i’ll stand on stage and
play other people’s records and take credit for them.
i’ll write more later, and i’ll try not to be such a verbose windbag.
operative word being ‘try’.
thanks,
moby
