Here I am in lovely St. Paul, Minnesota, watching the inimitable Fred Thomson gurgle and cough his way through fifteen solid minutes of half-assed Reagan tropes and militaristic jingoism. The audience is so white it’s blinding, and the empty seats in the convention hall betray a party with about as much star power as a Spin Doctors reunion at the Wasilla Community Center.
But I’m having fun. Hell, I even knocked back a few Budweisers with a couple of good ol’ boys from Oklahoma, who said they were excited to support Join McCain because "he ain’t no queerbait liberal terrorist like you." I must confess some admiration for these individuals, not just due to their conviction, but also because they bought my beers. And all I have to do is meet them in the bathroom after the speeches!
Now Joe "the Human Dial Tone" Lieberman is at the dais. My skin is nearly crawling off my body. People are hooting and hollering like wild beasts. Lieberman’s beady little eyes betray a squalid bloodlust unquenched by years of feasting on the soft skulls of the weakest members of his party. No, Lieberman is still unsatiated. He won’t rest until he’s devoured the pulsing grey matter of the entire Convention, starting with the stilted mannequin that is Cindy McCain. After gorging on her bottle-blonde noggin, he’ll throw her dessicated corpse to the rabid press corps for them to pick over. Joe will then consummate his twisted marriage to the Republican party by making love to Sarah Palin on the roof of the F. Scott Fitzgerald House, while screaming the final chapter of Gatsby at the top of his lungs.
Speaking of screaming, there’s one cretin here in the audience that keeps hollering like a crazed baboon. Those of you watching from the safety of your homes should be able to hear his nonsensical ululations on your TV. Listen closely: this is the sound of a party drunk on abstinence and ubiquitous firearms. It’s enough to turn a man religious.
One man who’s already found religion is Mitt Romney. I had the good fortune of speaking with Mitt earlier today, as we feasted on catered moose burgers courtesy of the Alaskan Fish and Wildlife Department. the following is an excerpt of our conversation.
The Contrarian: Is it true that your underpants are magic?
Mitt Romney: Yes, as a matter of fact, they are.
TC: Yet they failed to win you the nomination.
MR: True. But they let my boys breathe.
TC: You famously served as CEO of the 2002 Winter Olympics. Would you ever consider heading up the Special Olympics?
MR: I don’t think they pay enough. Plus I hate retarded kids.
TC: You’re a successful businessman, so I assume you’re opposed to taxes.
MR: That’s right.
TC: But tithing ten percent of your income is OK?
MR: Listen. I’m not going to sit here and let you make fun of my religion.
TC: Fair enough. Can I make fun of your haircut instead?
MR: This interview is over.
Stay tuned for a report from our Special Ladyparts Correspondent, Heddy Hopper, who will take a look at all the hooplah surrounding Alaskan National Guard Commander Sarah Palin.