"It's politics. What does that have to do with anything? Whataya have?"
Convention fan gets drink with a reality chaser
By John Kass
Published July 30, 2004
chicagotribune.com
BOSTON -- In the bar, locals were still sipping long after work. From the window you could see the auto body place across the street and the rundown flower shop, vacant lots, weeds under the streetlights, chain-link fences farther down.
Having been born in a neighborhood that had the feel of this one, a working neighborhood, a politically Democratic neighborhood, I expected the bar's TVs to be tuned to the Democratic National Convention taking place a few miles away.
But the TVs weren't showing the DNC. Instead, they had a Red Sox broadcast on, during a rain delay. The broadcasters were filling time, retelling old stories, running highlights of a recent series. I asked the bartender why they weren't watching the convention. She was a nice woman, tanned, with hard blond hair.
"Politics? Are you serious?" she asked.
Yes, I said, feeling sillier than usual.
"Honey, nobody cares about politics," she said.
She pointed to the TVs, at those behind the bar, on the far wall, in the corner.
"Nobody asked for politics on that one, not on that one and not on that one," she said. "It's politics. What does that have to do with anything? Whataya have?"
Something strong, I said.
When John Kerry stepped onto the podium Thursday night, he was about to deliver the most important speech of his political career. If you're reading a column with a Boston dateline, I figure you're somewhat interested in politics.
And since political people--Republicans and Democrats--will use the leverage of a gigantic federal government to shape policy, and so shape your life and your children's lives, you're probably interested in conventions. If you are interested, you're in the minority.
Republicans will have their convention in a few weeks. And surely, during the GOP convention in New York, I could drive out to a suburban Republican precinct and visit a tavern and the bartender there would tell me the same thing: That people aren't interested in politics. They're interested in the Yankees.
The number of viewers is down, so the broadcast networks cut back on their coverage, running game shows. Public television carries the convention, as do the cable news programs. But the big three networks run game shows.
They call their shows "reality TV," but that's a lie. They're really game shows, where one moron tries to cram more larvae into his mouth than another moron. The argument against network convention coverage is that the conventions are tightly scripted TV shows, vulgar infomercials for the candidates, featuring goofy true-believers in silly hats and political hucksters saying the same thing they've said before.
"Very, very, very few people are actually watching the convention," the L.A. Times quoted a Wisconsin professor as saying. "People like reality TV, and they like sports and they like surprises. There's not much surprising going on anymore at conventions. There's no news. It's one long infomercial."
That may be, professor. It may be that some jamoke eating larvae is more interesting to Americans than who will run the country during a desperate, costly and relentless global war on terrorism. It follows, then, that larvae eaters fill not only their mouths but also the pockets of network executives. But what's the big surprise--that some Rhodes Scholar will put larvae past his teeth?
Yes, the conventions are scripted and they're made for TV. The nomination is no surprise, leaving only the performances, the speeches and the counter-speeches by opposing parties at their rapid-response centers near the convention site. These follow their own script, of course.
But I'd still argue that these political rituals are important to Americans, and I wish more of us were interested. Delegates come from across the country, meeting and forging alliances.
Conventions aren't only about the ridiculous habit of asking Ben Affleck his opinion on foreign affairs. They're about political parties advertising their ideals. They're about ambitious people privately wheedling for appointments, about position and about fundraising.
They're about gathering, friendship, alliances, about who hopes to get what.
They're about democracy. Sometimes they even inspire a new generation to care about what happens in this country. They did for me.
I wouldn't get rid of them. They could be shortened, to a weekend, if the larvae eaters don't mind being rescheduled.
And I might concentrate less on the scripted events and more on the media spin, a study of how the issues are framed and which side benefits, because the game is all about messages fighting to get through to battleground states, places like Missouri, Florida, Pennsylvania and
Ohio.
Massachusetts obviously isn't a battleground. This state is as solidly Democratic as the Chicago City Council.
On the next night, same bar, different bartender, with John Edwards speaking, we asked the bartender to turn on the TV.
"Edwards, who's he?" she asked. |
