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7.26.04
Unconventional,
Day One:
The Unassociated Press Arrives on the Scene
By Chris Fara1
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The first thing on this week’s agenda is to pretend that conventions are more than just monumental wastes of time and taxes. Ignoring this political reality is difficult when you’re watching suits spit stump speeches from a podium, and chowing down at free buffets, but it’s the best way to consume the experience and report on the grand festivities. First agenda items usually get put to bed like old-school Boston alcoholics, and Me Three coverage of DNC 2004 will be no exception; but while gazetteers praise the convention of it all, our team is bringing readers along for the Jerry Springer moments. Here you’ll read about Tucker Carlson’s sexcapade with Bobby Novak on the Crossfire bus, Chris Matthews shitting himself at the Purple Shamrock, and Bill Maher devouring every last gram of blow in New England. We came to do a lot more than eat doughnuts and get hammered, even though that’s at least fifty percent of the fun.
The show started Saturday night at Boston’s newly finished Convention and Exhibition Center. The decor was overwhelmingly breathtaking, complete with a Democratic red carpet rolled out for delegates and people sticking tape recorders in their faces. Anyone who thinks the Kerry-DNC-Boston relationship wasn’t predestined before the first ballot was cast in Iowa should see the partyscape that Johnny’s hometown has been planning for years. Hysterically, the convention won’t be held at the city’s newest homage to bourgeois excess, but the hardworking men who busted their tails so the Massies could show off their new crib deserve a thank you. Hopefully the Kerry camp won’t forget them when they trounce on DC.
Other than the opening party, not much has happened so far. To our amazement, there really were two press passes waiting for us at the pick-up spot. The lanyards are a bit long, and I almost pissed on mine, which actually would have been fine considering its urine repellent plastic pouch. Stages are being built and the protesters are breaking out the oak tag and crayons. Everybody’s pushing some sort of agenda; Lyndon LaRouche, Russell Simmons, and Me Three included. Thankfully, we’ve got one of the best tickets in town.
There are a lot of things that will be omitted from Me Three’s DNC coverage. You might miss out on forced speeches by the many Dems who sought the nomination. We may tell you what they wanted to say, but there’s no way we’re going verbatim. Forget about the anti-Bushisms you can get at the website next door, because you won’t find them here this week. There also won’t be any further mocking of the way that Kerry speaks, and you sure as fuck won’t hear about how amazing it was to be within spitting distance of Hillary Clinton.
In addition to prefacing our avoidance of cliché and mission to sidestep transparent nonsense, this is also the time to lay down our disclaimer regarding the ignoring of Republican politics for the next five days. There are two reasons for this. The first is that I’m on vacation, and it sucks to care about things you hate when the workday expires. By the way, if anyone sees my boss, remember that the Republican scumbag thinks I’m on Nantucket with my fraternity brothers. The other reason for ignoring the elephant is that this is the Democratic National Convention, and chances are that these guys have some opinions of their own. We’ll talk about the others next month when they use New York City as a prop in their own grand production.
For now we’re in Boston. Some people, most notably my mother, have been asking why I would voluntarily put myself in a target situation. I assure you it has nothing to do with bravery, or some innate motivation to break the big story. There are thousands of other reporters here who are likely capable of reporting things like I do. Instead, my push to get on the floor of Boston ’04 was to be spared in the event that something monumental did go down. I would take death any day before I’d to listen to thousands of assholes tell me how they luckily called in sick, or how their brother-in-law’s cousin escaped from the lobby of the Fleet Center. In America, land of the free and home of the insecure douche who has to relate himself to everything, surely death is the lesser of two punishments.
If you desire the drivel of those who report on press releases and honor the face value of political jargon, then check the headlines of your local high school herald. While the rest of America is out looking for another pregnant woman whose husband obviously put the choke on her, Grueter and I are climbing up into the womb of American politics. If you enjoy writers who can’t be bought with free booze and DNC-subsidized amenities, then keep logging on. We’ll be here all week. Be sure to tip your reporter.
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Chris FARA1 is a writer living in New York City. He can be reached at fara1andonly@netscape.net.
©
2004 Me Three