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.