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DNCC Day 3: Unfeigned joy


Our treasured Barista, Darksnark, made this comment last night:
Okay, here's an observation some might find interesting.

I neglected to make any dinner tonight because I was too busy watching the convention, so I just went down to Mickey D's to grab a burger.

What did I encounter there? A whole goddamn line of cars out to the sidewalk. EVERYBODY was getting food on a Tuesday night at a time when that doesn't normally happen. McD, Burger King, Jack 'n the Box, same shit. I finally had to go to Panda Express (healthier anyway).

I overheard chatter at Panda indicating that those folks as well delayed dinner just to watch the convention. I haven't seen that sort of behavior since Obama in 2008.

We're gonna win this election.
Last night, the Democratic National Convention had its roll call to certify Vice President Kamala Harris as our nominee to take on convicted felon Donald Trump. The joy Darksnark encountered was mirrored in the roll call. The dj was thumpin'. The delegates were dancing. The joy permeated the arena and seeped through our screens and monitors.

We have seen nothing like this before. Not 2008 with Barack Obama. Not 1960 with John F. Kennedy. There has not been a moment like this in modern American political history.

This is a watershed moment. A political campaign has made joy its central theme. Vice President Harris' laugh is the icon. Her husband, Doug Emhoff—"Heeeeyyy, it's Doug!"—in his speech averred his love of her laugh. This unbridled, unfeigned, untrammeled joy has been in short supply since that orange gobshite descended that fake gold escalator nine years ago. Those of us in opposition to him have been fighting a war of bitterness, just trying to stop him from making things worse.

And what do our opponents have? Compare last night's roll call to that of the Republican National Convention a few weeks ago:
That wasn't a roll call; it was a dirge.

Or, let's see what Dime Store Nosferatu is whining about:


Lighten up, Francis. Nobody cares about your hero's possibly-staged assassination attempt. 

Friend of the blog, RationalLeft, told me yesterday that Team Trump was so apoplexed over this theme of joy that it was saying that it stemmed from the Nazi slogan "Strength through Joy". You didn't know this? Neither did I, because it went off like a damp squib.

Donald Trump was ready to engage in another contest of two old titans. And President Joe Biden scuppered that. Now Trump has no idea how to confront Kamala. And the Democratic convention is only half-done. Today we have Coach Tim Walz's speech. And then tomorrow Vice President Harris will bring fire and mirth upon Trump's head. And there's nothing he can do about it. All his attacks have fallen flat. Because how can you defeat a joy which laughs at you, mocks you, takes you not at all seriously?

Angelenos stayed home to watch Barack and Michelle, and then swarmed out for fast food goodness. This is Not Normal™. There's something happening here, and it is very clear. As Mrs. Obama said, hope is back in the house. But more than that: joy is in the house. Mirth. Laughter. No wannabe tinpot dictator can withstand that. Joy punctures the overinflated balloons of the self-satisfied. It lays waste to hatred. It suffocates animus. It is the weapon which dictators fear the most. I recall the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia. Led by artists, its joy overturned the regime which had been imposed at the barrel of Soviet tanks in 1968. It didn't stand a chance. We're seeing that now with our putative Supreme Leader. His pretensions are laid bare as laughable and derisory. He's the emperor with no clothes, and everyone is laughing.

As Mrs. Obama said, we have an election to win, and it won't be easy. But I'd rather be us than them.

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