"I feel a great disturbance in the Force, as if
millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced."
Obi-Wan might as well have been talking about last night’s
call by Hillary Clinton to nominate Barack Obama by acclamation. Even as cheers
rang throughout the assembled DNC crowd, through the MPR broadcast it was easy
to hear the anguished chorus of PUMAs and die-hard Clinton fans crying out as their personal Alderaan
exploded before their eyes.
Of course, it was too much for the Democratic party to ever
expect Obama’s nomination to be accepted without rancor or dissention in the
ranks. Ever since famed blogger John
Scalzi revealed that Barack Obama does not, in fact, fart cinnamon-scented
rainbows, Democratic officials and party members have realized how deeply
divisive the last year has been for the party. And without the aforementioned
sweetly-scented intestinal emissions, Democrats face a serious battle to return
to the days when the party was united under Bill Clinton’s banner of Internet
IPOs, kittens and abortions for all. For, if nothing else, one lesson they can
take away from Star Wars,
not to mention the last seven years in Afghanistan
is that regime change is a cast-iron bitch.
Make no mistake, last night’s speech by Bill Clinton was an
abdication of power. For nearly two decades the Clintons have been to first Democratic
family, with all the influence, fundraising clout and nubile interns such a
position has to offer. Last night was Bill’s last dance. You could hear it in
his voice as he reveled in the cheers of the assembled left-leaning masses
yearning once more for the feather soft caress of the elder statesman to set
their loins aquiver with his nimble tongue and folksy charm. Even as Bill
cajoled the crowd into silence, you could tell he knew this time on the
podium would be his last brush with the reverence accorded to a liberal savior.
He may never again be able to coerce a young woman into inserting phallic
tobacco products in inappropriate orifices, so any maudlin thoughts on his part
are perfectly understandable.
So as his speech began, making us all pine for the heady
days when the Internet was a eldritch tube that channeled the unspeakable power
of that which came before – making imaginary money and not just a masturbatory tool for
douchebags, hatemongers and hormonally confused tweens, it wasn’t a
surprise that much of it focused on his own accomplishments. But through the
ego-stroking and fond reminiscences of economic booms, cordial relations with
foreign powers, and perjured testimony came reassurances of Obama’s talent and
capabilities – his readiness to lead and his preparedness to bring change and
puppies to the hallowed halls of Capitol Hill.
And his willingness to make those statements with his wife’s
most ardent supporters just a few feet away still railing against this
"perversion of democracy," calling for recounts, and demanding their hymens be
returned to them, makes it all the more impressive. Whether he receives a
cabinet position in the event of an Obama win or not, he closed the door on his
own era. Few men can lay claim to that. Now if only he could alter time, speed
up the election, or teleport us to England, where campaigns only last
approximately four weeks, his place in history would be assured.