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(We publish here what we presume to be the last of Dr. Diatribe's dispatches from the Democratic Convention, since it is now over.)
Thursday
Disappointed with public response to his current "It's Time For A Really Boring President" slogan, Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry tonite kicked off a new "He's Got Shrapnel In His Butt" campaign theme to wild acclaim.
"We believe this change will emphasize the major difference between Senator Kerry and the current evil President," Kerry campaign Assistant Sub-Director for Candidate Palatability, Sheila Nettlesome told me, "namely that the Senator has an inoperable sliver in his rear end, and George Bush does not."
Kerry, one of the most decorated war veterans of all time, was continuously pounded by a rain of shrapnel during his 4 1/2 months as the commander of a Navy swiftboat in early 1969. Navy medics were taxed to their limits removing bits of metal round the clock from the young lieutenant. However the butt shrapnel was judged inoperable by doctors due to its close proximity to his vital organs.
Backed by exploding grenades, a full-sized battleship, and titanic american flags flapping in the stale air, all of it crammed into a convention center smaller than the Senator's old flower-power VW bus, Kerry told the heaving throng that his repeated wounds made him uniquely qualified to be President.
"No man should be allowed to send your sons and daughters into harm's way unless he has first been turned to swiss cheese by Viet-Cong shrapnel!" He intoned in his trademark angry mortician monotone. "My opponent has not been hit by shrapnel even once!!"
The heroic butt-wound theme roused the audience as never before, and many pledged their undying love to the bedraggled but undaunted Senator.
"This is the Saviour we have awaited," cried Mrs. Eda Buffet, a delegate from Possumhock, Alabama. "With his shrapnel-filled posterior and intimidating war record, he will finally free us from the diabolical grip of Halliburton and usher us into a new era of light!"
Then, to the swelling strains of the Hallelujah Chorus (performed by a choir of Hollywood celebrities), Senator Kerry replaced his glistening helmet, snapped to attention, and saluted smartly. As Michael Moore and Hillary Duff hit high soprano notes, he marched out of the hall through two rows of actors dressed as Marines, each holding a different state flag, and stepped aboard a Huey helicopter... and into History.
(Another of the Doctor's dispatches from Boston has managed to make it back to us)
Wednesday
Knowing as I did that the Reverend Al Sharpton would be speaking tonight, I arranged to have representatives from Guiness and Ripley's Believe It Or Not at hand. I can now announce that Rev. Sharpton now holds the world's record for "Most Ironic Speech Made At An American Political Convention In Modern Times."
His glossy hair waving in the wind, the Reverend was thoroughly exercised that George Bush had misled the people in the run up to the Iraq War.
"He misled us!" Mr. Sharpton expostulated to enthralled onlookers. "He said we had to go to war because there were weapons of mass destruction there! Then, when none were found, he told us we had gone to war for some other reason!"
"He misled us!" Rev. Sharpton reiterated. Then, feeling his eager audience might not be getting the point, he decided to elucidate.
"If I tell you that Tawana Brawley was attacked by a racist local prosecutor and five other law enforcement officials and then, once this is discovered to be a crock, I tell you it doesn't matter whether she was really attacked because white people are hostile against us anyway and we feel attacked whether we really are or not -- I've misled you!"
The point seemed well taken, and the crowd cheered.
Later in the evening, John Edwards combed his hair and smiled brightly.
(Dr. Diatribe continues his dispatches from the Democratic Convention in Boston)
Tuesday
Security continues to be tight here, so tight I couldn't go home last night. Fortunately the Houston and Cape Canaveral delegations provided me with enough NASA-designed Temperpedic® Space Age sleep material to construct a crude form-fitting bed. I arose fit as a fiddle and ready for another round of speechifying.
Then Senator Ted Kennedy waddled up to the Podium. I really couldn't catch what he was saying -- partly because he rambled a lot and partly because I was fascinated watching his image oscillate hypnotically on the 50-inch Plasma Screens behind him, much as his own body does when viewed close up. Suffice to say, his point was that Bush was the worst leader in world history since Caligula.
Seeing Senator Tom Daschle approach the mike, I retreated to my Temperpedic® material. When I woke up, Howard Dean was had just finished. I was pleased to see that the same veins still stand out on his head. Good old Dean, "the one fixed point in a changing world."
At that point, Teresa Heinz Kerry was wheeled out onto the rostrum. Her husband's people had taken the precaution of shooting her full of sedatives before her speech, which consisted of complaints about the plight of downtrodden women woven metaphysically together with odd scraps from old Abraham Lincoln speeches. The drugs did their job, and only twice did she tell anyone to cram anything into their nether regions.
I found the combination of her slow, hazy cadence and odd, unplaceable accent strangely soothing... like a verbal lava lamp... emptying my mind of all thoughts... all volition... yesss... we will do your will, John Kerry... John Kerry is our master... Lead us... Guide us...
Fortunately, just at that moment, my faithful Valet Clarence -- who always wears earplugs at events like this -- snapped me out of it. It was a narrow escape, but I fear that not all the delegates were quite as lucky... nor was poor Ron Reagan, who told us that the Democratic Party was the party of stem cells.
Tomorrow: Al Sharpton!
(Doctor Diatribe has been reporting from the Democratic National Convention all this week. Unfortunately, security has been so tight that he hasn't escaped to file his reports until just now...)
Monday
You call this a convention?? Back in my day, conventions were about bloated plutocrats manouvering behind the scenes to select their favorite lacky while the delegates were distracted by a lot of fancy gimmicks, empty slogans, and red-meat rhetoric! How do you think we got Millard Fillmore??
Then again, maybe they aren't so different after all.
At any rate, I can't see anything from here. Proximity to the stage for state delegations is based on how likely you are to deliver for Kerry this Fall. I've been seated behind Utah! Even the most bloated plutocrats look like cockroaches from this distance.
Tonite, we heard first from Senator Clinton. In her bell-like tones she reminded us that Senator Kerry will be an excellent placeholder until she can get to the White House herself. Waves of enthusiasm shook the hall. After that she introduced "That dawg," by which we understood her to mean the previous President, her husband.
Ex-President Clinton expounded the sturdy argument that Senator Kerry's Viet-Nam boat service made a really good presidential metaphor, whereas Mr. Bush's metaphor of no-nonsense war leader was all a dodge. Waves of enthusiasm again shook the hall.
Ex-ex-ex-ex-President Carter, was in a grumpy mood -- reputedly due to a severe bout with hemorroids -- and it showed. Pulling himself up to his full stature, he declared in no uncertain terms that Bush had to go because he was a dangerous cowboy who "reminds me of that d---d movie actor that stole my job!" When the crowd woke up, waves of enthusiasm shook the hall.
Finally, ex-Vice-President Gore, who had struggled so valiantly with George Bush years before, came to the podium. Looking out with glimmering eyes over the eager, heaving masses yearning to breathe free, his face became brick red and then his head exploded. How old is that getting?!
Waves of enthusiasm shook the hall.
In a highly symbolic move, Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry last week picked as his running mate a personal injury lawyer who amassed a fortune preying on other people's misery and driving up health insurance rates.
Barbarians and slackers notwithstanding, the flag is still there, dagnabit! Copyright © 2001-2004 by Doctor Diatribe. All rights reserved.
