The Boston Red Sox were off Monday night. They’re playing the San Francisco Giants at Fenway Park tonight.
Although there were a couple movies in which I had some interest, I idly watched the Republican National Convention out of perverse fascination. It was similar to the reason why, a week earlier, I inexplicably watched an all-star softball game that followed the Home Run Derby. Sometimes I get some measure of amusement from events that are gloriously stupid.
I thought Rudy Giuliani looked scary, like some video-game weirdo.
The “theme” for the night was Make America Safe Again, and, yet, I never heard anyone propose anything specific to get that job done. It’s the same Republican pattern.
We don’t like what the other team’s doing. We don’t want you to know what we would do.
Then again, maybe I wasn’t watching closely enough. Maybe I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Or vice-versa. I could see the forest.
So I went in and out, lifting up my reading glasses so that I could intermittently focus on the TV screen. I just heard snippets of Melania Trump’s speech:
Forescore and seven years ago. Let’s see. What year was that? Nineteen twenty-nine. Forescore and seven years ago, the stock market crashed, and my husband isn’t going to let that happen again!
Lots of interviews took place. A progression of crack interviewers persisted in asking repeated questions Republicans had no intention of answering.
When, in the course of human events …
The massive podium, which, I think, was platinum colored, took on a red shade at times, and, when Donald Trump walked out in a shroud of blue smoke, it reminded me of some old sci-fi flick like The Day the Earth Stood Still, and I half-expected Trump to say, “Resistance is futile, earthlings. Now … meet my wife.”
My favorite aspect of this convention is the disappearance, albeit temporary, of the word “presumptive” from common usage. I’ve been looking forward to that for months.
I still have a dream, a dream deeply rooted in the American dream …
For months now, the words of Steve Earle’s “Christmas in Washington” keep coming to mind: It’s Christmastime in Washington / The Democrats rehearsed / Gettin’ into gear for four more years / Things not gettin’ worse / Republicans drink their whiskey neat / And thanked their lucky stars / They said “he cannot seek another term” / There’ll be no more FDRs.
Many Republicans seem to have reached the Colonel Nicholson moment. Sir Alec Guinness portrayed that character in The Bridge on the River Quai. After building the bridge and forgetting which side he was on, Colonel Nicholson regained his clarity as he was dying. “My God. What have I done?” he asked before he staggered to his knees and fell on the plunger, thus destroying the aforementioned bridge on the River Quai.
Nicholson, however, wasn’t late. He was just tardy.
The only thing we have to fear is … fear itself!
My new novel, though anchored regionally, has a strong political element, and it’s made me realize that political fiction is getting harder to write because non-fiction is getting stranger.
I can’t get no … satisfaction …
Mrs. Trump kept reminding me of one of the perfect supermodels in the 1981 sci-fi movie Looker. Or maybe a certain comedy.
Must kill Frank Drebin. Must kill Frank Drebin …
Chachi had already told me I needed to know what it is like to be an American. Okay. I sort of love Joanie, too. I heard one time she was homeless.
Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.
How did it come to this? I keep hearing there’s no choice. The voters don’t like either side. How can this be? Didn’t the voters select them, or has someone planted this Frank Drebin bug or virus or computer chip in our center of culture, our phones?
Life requires a sense of humor. At least I’ve still got that going for me.
Stop by L&L Office Supply, 114 North Broad Street, Clinton and buy one of my novels. Buy either Forgive Us Our Trespasses or Crazy of Natural Causes, and you’ll get a volume of my short stories, Longer Songs, absolutely free. Tell ‘em Monte sent you, y’hear?
Kindle versions – you don’t have to have a Kindle, just a free app for your electronic devices – of most of my books are available here. Links to print copies are below.
Forgive Us Our Trespasses is the latest. It’s a tale about crooked politician who wants to be governor, whatever it takes, and another man trying to stop him. It’s outrageous.
Crazy of Natural Causes is about the fall and rise of Chance Benford, a Kentucky football coach who reinvents himself. It’s original.
The Intangibles is about the South in the 1960s, complete with racial strife, bigotry, resentment, cultural exchange and, of course, high school football.
The Audacity of Dope is the tale of Riley Mansfield, a pot-smoking songwriter turned national hero with a taste for the former and a distaste for the latter.
Longer Songs is a collection of 11 short stories that all began in songs I wrote.
Follow me at Facebook (Monte.Dutton), Twitter (@montedutton), Google+ (MonteDuttonWriter) and/or Instagram (Tug50).