Day 82 and 83: My Political Hangover

For some reason a bunch of us went out Friday night to the Union even though we needed to get up at dawn to catch the Barack Obama show at the Adams Center. Bad choice, but then again, we had a pretty good time out anyway.

When Alisia and I were on the road home from Phoenix a week ago I downloaded Kayne West's song "Good Morning" because I thought it'd be a nice way to wake up – and it usually is save for when Mr. West wakes me at 5 as he did on Obama Day. But regardless of our lack of sleep, Alisia and I woke up and headed off to the event, first meeting Sean, Tonya, Bill and John at Finnegan's for bad coffee and greasy food. It sort of worked out nicely...

Around 7 a.m. we arrived at the line, the end of which was near 6th and Gerald. Here we met "Line Cop" – a man who felt he owned the line and would run it his way. You see, as is often the case, people we knew got there early and we joined them at that point instead of the very back. Capt. Line Cop got pissy, "Is this it cause we keep getting pushed back here...okay?" That condescending "Okay" should have tipped me off that he wasn't joking, but I assumed he was. Wrong. Later when a reporter who works with Sean at the Kaimin showed up to ask some advice, Line Cop got on my ass about it. "Hey, this guy needs to move to the back, okay? He shouldn't be up here."

It was 7:30 a.m. and I was tired as all hell, so instead of responding I just mumbled, "huh?" And then Tonya explained to Line Cop that this guy was leaving. Had I not been half asleep I think I would have reminded the guy about how we all had these things called "tickets" and having a "ticket" would get him "inside" the "event" so he should fuck "himself."

Once we got inside we met the security forces, which sucked. The guy who patted me down felt my asthma inhaler, made me take it out and explain it, and then said, "So you have asthma?" I wanted to say, "No, I carry it around in case someone else does." But that'd been as useful as yelling, "I have a bomb!"

And once inside the Adams Center...we waited...and waited...and [yawn!] waited. At least I got to see this laugh worthy commemorative:

This was just oddly hilarious, particularly when the screen below this
prominently displayed a misspelling of his name.

Those two hours took forever. But then, at 10:14 a.m. the man arrived:

Obama, oh you came and delivered a sermon and inspired a crowd. Obama...

The place went nuts, seriously nuts. For just a moment it seemed like the man wouldn't get to speak because no one would stop clapping. But as much as his words meant something to me, and his candor drew me in and made me even more hopeful than ever that he would be our next president, the most stirring image for me was an old woman across the gymnasium from me.

Normally I don't stare at people, but in this case I did. She was an old woman with one of those white old-lady-afros that scream to be dyed blue, and she was clapping enthusiastically at each thing Obama said. Then the crowd stood to cheer during the peak of one of Obama's promises, I believe to bring the troops home. The old woman obviously had arthritis and she fought to stand up only barely making it to her feet before everyone else sat. But she did not. She clapped solo, quietly, as part of her own standing-O for Obama. Having watched the scene I suddenly was hit with a wave of emotion and appreciation for Sen. Obama – there are few things many people can willfully believe in these days it seems, and I don't think age makes cynicism easier. But there in the Adams Center, with Obama extolling his message of hope, an old woman dismissed her arthritic pain to cheer for him. She believed. I honestly hope that when I'm in my 60s or 70s someone can still make me believe that much.

I'll also say that Obama dropped a damn funny joke after saying his campaign still running strong felt like a miracle: "I mean, I'm a black man with a funny name and big ears." A laugh riot. He also said he wanted to go fly-fishing, a joke he repeated later that night...

The Missoula event ended around 11 a.m., leaving me with 2 hours before I needed to meet Rebecca and Jhwygirl from 4&20 to travel over toward Butte America for the Mansfield-Metcalf Dinner, or as I call it: Barrack 2: This time it's in Butte.

This was Barrack in Butte from my vantage point:

Yeah, I was far away, but his speech was just as moving as in Missoula.

I sat with some family, my undecided parents and my pro-Hillary Aunt and Uncle. But I think Obama won, if not everyone's vote, at least their heart. He just made everyone happy, particularly, again, with his humor by joking that he wanted a Tester haircut, or at least a Tester-tie (Couldn't do either); and to go fishing with Gov. Brian Schweitzer. It was pretty damn good humor even if it was repeated.

A sidenote: later in the night people would tell me that Barack seemed like a preacher giving a sermon. I concur. I've watched people at those megachurches speaking in tongues and acting crazy and always sot of felt like those people needed medication, but with the charisma Barack through out, and the way I felt watching and listening...well, I now get why Joel Olsteen sells books.

After Barack I tried eating my "dinner" provided by the Dems. In a word: Shitska. It was a turkey sandwich that sort of made me sick, but at least it came with a tasty cookie and some Doritos. (Lame!)

Between Obama and Hillary we got Sen. Tester, Gov. Schweitzer, and Sen. Baucus. Let me just say that Baucus is a boring man, but I agree with Mr. Wulfgar! that people didn't to be so disrespectful of him. Yes, Baucus doesn't always bring the gold in speeches, but remember Burns? Yeah, I'm okay with Max when compared to that nutbar. We also heard from South Dakota's Rep. Stephanie Herseth Sandlin, a very articulate woman who I had to pity given that she was the lead speaker before the big O and H signed on for the dinner. They sort of outshined her, which sucks for her, but oh well.

Another note: I thought it was very nice that Gov. Brian talked about Tester's election, and not so much his own upcoming raise. It was a nice departure from the rest of the evening's "vote for me" speeches.

Hillary's arrival didn't garner the same applause as Obama despite her seeming to have more sign-holders placed around Butte's Civic Center. I've been tougher on Clinton this race because of her, um, "mistake" five years ago by following President Bush to war, but she did a good job Saturday night despite obviously having a cold.

I thought Hillary did good, but someone needed to give her some TheraFlu,
and a couple of cough drops. The girl was sick.

I particularly appreciated her saying that China needs to quit poisoning us all the time...seems like a good policy choice. But when she started talking about how we need out of Iraq I just wanted to scream, "You apologize right now senator!" It came off as half-assed pandering instead of real regret. But then again, I'm just slightly bitter. I was graduating high school when she decided my generation could die in Baghdad...

After the speech I walked out with my family, exchanged some hugs and well-wishes, and then headed off to meet up with Rebecca and Jhwygirl again. En route I ran into a kid I went to High school with named Robbie. He was a Freshman when I graduated, but his uncanny resemblance to me in personality and looks got him dubbed, "Mini-Pat," so I took a shine to him. He's apparently still copying me since I noticed his shirt had a big "Obama voter" logo. Made me damn proud.

After meeting up with the kids we went off to an after party in Uptown Butte where I snagged this picture:

Myself and Sen. Jon "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" Tester.

Yeah I know it's lame to by a fan-boy at a politico event, but it's Jon-fucking-Tester. (I know I normally don't drop the f-bomb on the blog, but Tester deserves that as a middle name since Obama already snagged "Awesome.") The best part about this picture is that right before it was snapped Tester put his arm around me, smiled, and then took a second to say, "Hey, that's a nice coat." Complimenting a Carhartt = Real Montana. As much as I've mocked the fact that Tester looks like the singer Meatloaf, looking at the two of us...I think he and I share an unfortunate resemblance...but that's okay by me.

Early Sunday John tried to wake me up to go see Hillary at the hanger, but I ignored his call and slept in until noon. I'd seen her once already, and seeing as I support Obama, why bother? But I hear it was an okay time so that's good.

All I did Sunday was hang with Alisia and catch the new Jack Black flick Be Kind Rewind. Even though it was kind of nonsensical in some parts, and barely held a story together, I liked it enough to recommend a matinée visit.

Okay, it's 2 p.m. Monday and I need to quit blogging. Sorry I didn't get this up yesterday...I was just kind of tired. I'll stop by later for a quickie post.

Day Three: The thing about Hillary is…

I’ve decided to put off any discussion about my love life until the weekend––it’s a long story. Instead I am going to talk about why I dislike Sen. Hillary Clinton’s candidacy.

Allow me to provide an image for you: It’s 40 years ago and Hillary and Bill Clinton (though not yet married) are protesting the Vietnam War. Hillary says this war is evil, and the leaders have lied to people, and, most importantly, people of her generation are dying. Bill agrees so much so that he has deftly avoided the draft (genius).

First of all, I completely agree with their ideas. As we all know by now the Gulf of Tonkin Incident never happened but President Lyndon Johnson still began one of the stupidest and ill thought of conflicts in American history. The dick. So many people died for no reason––“bad intelligence” if you will.

Hillary should have stood against the war and her leaders, and she did. I’m damn proud of people like her who helped end that whole deal before Pappy Duganz came of draft age. But when she called Johnson a liar back then, she wasn’t even completely sure of it…she just didn't like the idea of war.

Fast forward to 2002…

Bad intelligence on WsMD in Iraq comes to the Senate, where Hillary now holds office. But where as when people her age were dying, now she didn’t care. Her skepticism had eroded and she beat the drum for war…for people my age.

How can a rebel change so much that they become the establishment? It kills me inside just thinking about it. This woman used to hate the government, but now, she is the government. And she had no problems with people my age dying. Amazing what a few decades will do.

So there, in just a few words, is the one and only reason I’m not part of the pro-Hillary camp. It’s not even because of any view I hold on the war. My opposition comes down to the fact that she wouldn’t send someone her age to die in a jungle, but sending someone my age to die in a desert seemed tip-top-a-roo to her.

I can’t tell if that’s depressing, or sick. All I know is I can't stomach her winning because of it.

An Introduction

When I turned 18 I thought, and this is not a lie, “Cool, now I can vote and move away from Anaconda*.” Twenty-one brought the unmistakable joy of buying booze with a real ID and without feeling panicky about it.

And now 23…what does that even mean? So many ages come with inherent significance and meaning without any effort on part of the individual, but 23 just sticks out as a meaningless era between legal drinking, and cheaper insurance.

Okay, so maybe I’m being sardonic. But I have my reasons. College is over. I’m single. Broke. About 20 pounds overweight. I need new glasses. My hair is calling for a full retreat from my scalp. Prescriptions cost too much. Gas costs too much. I think I’m developing some sort of gastronomical issue. I may be a hypochondriac. And my sleep patterns are dreadfully erratic.

This was not what I pictured as my life at 23, but oh my, it is.

What do you do when you wake up one morning, just shy of 23, chunky yet having malnutrition, with the taste of Marqués de Cáceres Crianza Rioja 2003 wine still bitter in your mouth, and a mild case of depression? What if the greatest compliment you had ever received began to ring untrue? I don’t know the answers either, but I plan on finding out.

Starting Jan. 15, my birthday, I will begin daily postings here (and occasionally on YouTube) as a way to chronicle the next year of my life as I search for the answers to the following:

• Out of college…now what?
• Single…now what?
• Two years to write a complete draft of a novel as per promise to dying relative (made three years ago)…how hard can that be?

And probably the most important question:

• What do I really want in life?

For some reason I always thought what I wanted was to be a published, professional writer. Then, I found out how easy it is to be this. You go to journalism school for four years, work moderately hard, graduate, and apply to a newspaper. Done. Pro. Dream discovered. I never realized until now that there were more layers to be exposed, such as what kind of writer one wishes to be, or where one wants to write. I always thought you just wrote stuff somewhere. Wrong. It’s complicated.

So, for those of you who haven’t quite figured it out, I am having a mid-mid-life crisis. Out of boredom, stupidity, or both, I am asking you to come join me on my quest to find answers in my life, and maybe figure out just who the hell Duganz at 23 really is.

*Clarifying: Anaconda is a small town in Montana where I grew up. Hated. And am happy to be free of.