The Cuyahoga River is afire again: Confessions of a journalist in exile

Happy Wednesday everybody from the Cuyahoga Suite in smoky downtown Cleveland. Cousin Fred and I, oh and the virginal vegan Brooklyn Hodensack, are here to bring you close-up and personal insights into the mess that is the Republican National Convention.

It’s 4AM and once again, I just sent the last couple of delegates out the door and to their own hotel rooms. Another big party night last night. Now, I’m left with some very cold leftover chicken wings, very warm half-empty cans of beer, and positively yellow sticky notes everywhere from the virginal vegan Hodensack admonishing me to “Write, damn you!” and “Why aren’t you writing?” and “No sleep for you until you write 1,000 words!” and, my favorite “Write, or die!” She’s so emotional.

Actually, after yesterday, I’m not sure I can still call GOP convention a mess. Everyone seemed well behaved. The Trump’s formal nomination and that of his running mate Mike “El Pensive” Pence were solidified by a roll call vote that the damned TV political analysts kept talking over the top of. I guess it’s their way of ensuring that viewers wouldn’t get bored and turn to reruns of Spin City and The Drew Carey Show on the LAFF channel or watching infomercials offering the latest in prostate relief (call now and get not one, but two for the first 1,000 callers).

The really interesting thing from my point of view yesterday was that there wasn’t a single Republican elite-ish speaker that was necessarily rabidly pro-The Trump. They did, however, all share disdain and venom for the Queen of the Unindicted, who in her own weird twist on custom hasn’t been silent during her opponent’s convention. She has even been campaigning in Ohio during the convention. Guess Her Majesty figures The Trump will be burning up the Twitter servers during the Dem’s convention in Philadelphia next week and she might as well get in her own shots now.

Here in the Cuyahoga Suite, we’ve all (well, okay it’s actually only me) been watching the events unfold. I’m now a journalist in exile having had my press credentials rescinded for trying to incite a riot on the floor of the convention the day before. As I said before, it’s something of a badge of honor for me. I’ve been thrown out of a lot of conventions – there was the Seiko Watch Sellers convention in Istanbul, Turkey years ago. I walked into a reception, had a few drinks, and didn’t actually get caught until I tried to take a seat at dinner. But, that’s another story for another time.

So, the kindest most positive support for The Trump came from his own children, two of whom spoke yesterday. There were questions of plagiarism in a speech again, this time given by The Trump’s oldest son. Those were quickly laid to rest when the guy who wrote the original work said that he helped craft the speech. We here at CCB have a crack team of speechwriting analysts working to sift through every syllable of every speech, but as yet haven’t discovered what plagiarist experts call “a big deal.”

There are rumors that The Trump plans to quote Alfred E. Neuman in his nomination acceptance remarks, but who knows. Be assured that CCB is on the job.

The thing that struck me as I watched events unfold yesterday was how lackluster it all was. I’m told by my friends in the media (the few that will still acknowledge my existence) that the heads of the delegations were coached by convention organizers that the delegations HAD to put on a happy face and enthusiastically support the candidate. Maybe that was reflected in the faces of the people I saw on television. A sort of contrived, let’s get this over with feeling. At least that’s my keen political insights into things.

Can The Trump actually pull this off? Who knows? No one seemed to give him much a chance for securing his party’s nomination before. And, if he does pull it off, will he be as divisive, as he has appeared as a candidate, when he’s president? Again, who knows?

Whichever way it goes, we’re doomed as I see it.

Probably more so than any other election in my lifetime, it’s going to come down to getting out the vote. The Trump, if he wins, will likely only do so by a slim margin. There’s much more to come, people. Stay tuned.  

Okay, I’m off to write 1,000 words to keep the virginal vegan Hodensack off my back. Night.

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