THOUGHTS ON JOHN-JOHN
I’m probably going to get in trouble with my Democrat friends at work, but my first taste of the John-John show tonight made me nauseous. JK looked haggard (shades of Nixon vs. Kennedy in the first televised presidential debates in the 1960’s?) and nervous (at one point, I thought he had Parkinson’s disease, he was bobbing and convulsing so much). He spoke too fast and didn’t pause nearly enough. (The pause is an underrated indicator of how comfortable a speaker is on the podium: is s/he OK with silence, with all eyes on him/her without having to move onto the next point?) And when JK pointed out JE and JE gave that cheese grin and the double thumbs up, I practically leaned over my couch and puked. Way too much sunshine, boys.
The crazy thing is that the DNC was one power-packed convention. The D’s certainly have their share of marquee names. I watched here and there while I scarfed down dinner and did the crossword puzzles, and paraded before America were some truly remarkable men and women: Clinton, Gore, Carter, Sharpton, Albright. Talk about a “Murderer’s Row.” Clinton could charm a . . . well, I’m not going to go there. Carter had me believing, Sharpton riveted my attention, and the sea of delegates was a rainbow of skin colors and ages and classes. I watched, and I felt the love. To end with JK was, for me, such a letdown.
Thanks for the party, D’s. Your move, R’s.
I’m probably going to get in trouble with my Democrat friends at work, but my first taste of the John-John show tonight made me nauseous. JK looked haggard (shades of Nixon vs. Kennedy in the first televised presidential debates in the 1960’s?) and nervous (at one point, I thought he had Parkinson’s disease, he was bobbing and convulsing so much). He spoke too fast and didn’t pause nearly enough. (The pause is an underrated indicator of how comfortable a speaker is on the podium: is s/he OK with silence, with all eyes on him/her without having to move onto the next point?) And when JK pointed out JE and JE gave that cheese grin and the double thumbs up, I practically leaned over my couch and puked. Way too much sunshine, boys.
The crazy thing is that the DNC was one power-packed convention. The D’s certainly have their share of marquee names. I watched here and there while I scarfed down dinner and did the crossword puzzles, and paraded before America were some truly remarkable men and women: Clinton, Gore, Carter, Sharpton, Albright. Talk about a “Murderer’s Row.” Clinton could charm a . . . well, I’m not going to go there. Carter had me believing, Sharpton riveted my attention, and the sea of delegates was a rainbow of skin colors and ages and classes. I watched, and I felt the love. To end with JK was, for me, such a letdown.
Thanks for the party, D’s. Your move, R’s.
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