Stijl and Class

I hadn’t had the pleasure of until this morning, when a chance browse brought me to his thoughts on how he would protest the Republican convention. As the Democrat omelette starts its sizzle up in Boston, grappling with paranoia, security, unity, official bloggers, and the mechanics of trying to drag our nation’s head out of its collective butt in time for the election, his post is timely and welcome.

It’s inappropriate on many levels for the Republican convention to happen here. Apart from security concerns – hello, like we really need more potential risks – there’s a simple reality that should have smelled like coffee to someone, somewhere along the way: they don’t belong here, and we don’t want them.

New York is not voting for their man and New York is not buying their agenda. They will not win in this city or in this state, even if they squick Giuliani in as the Vice President nominee at the last minute “by acclaim.” Setting the convention here is an insult, a backhand, a selfish and cynical act by an administration of mean and empty men.

Greg’s classy riposte, quoted in part:

I would be eerily, even unsettlingly, quiet and orderly.

I would take seriously my responsibility as a New Yorker who lived through that horrible day, and take its symbolism back from the politicians who ignored the warnings, did nothing to prepare, sat or flailed wildly when it happened, sowed fear with it ever since, used it to falsely justify a war of misplaced vengeance, put us all in even greater danger than we were before, and who are now coming to town to usurp the most widely shared monument to their failure.

Enough is enough. I am angry that they’ve chosen this city for their carnival. I like Greg’s idea. I remember the last time this city was eerily quiet and orderly; I still cry about it, and I will never stop. We are not here to serve as a symbol for cyncial, desperate politicians of any party, of any stripe, of any orientation. We didn’t survive for that.

Thanks to Zeebahtronic for the link.

About Linus

The man behind the curtain. But couldn't we get a nicer curtain?
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