The Rake Magazine

Tag: primaries

  • Signed, Sealed, and Delivered

    We deserve Barack Obama.

    That is tonight’s message.

    And Obama has arrived!

    The crowd roars — everyone on their feet, so many of them smiling, laughing, a few even silently crying. Is this the message of change?

    He can barely be heard above the din. For three whole minutes the crowd roars, only getting louder before they finally leave their voices in Obama’s care.

    "Thank you…"

    And the crowd roars again.

    He dedicates the evening to his grandmother.

    And the crowd roars again. MN for Change. Women 4 Change. Students for Obama. Aarp for Obama. Vets for Obama. Even Christians for Obama. They’re all here.

    "Our primaries season has finally come to an end," he declares.

    And, of course, the crowd roars again. We all know what this means.

    "I will be the Democratic nominee for president of the United States."

    There it is people. Yes you can.

    And I think I’m deaf now.

    Obama continues. He sings Hillary’s praises, claiming to be a better person because of her, from running against her.

    He addresses those that say the Democratic party is weaker now because of their campaign. He brings up the millions of Americans who have cast their first votes. Judging from the crowd in here, he is right about this. Sure, there are folks of all ages — but so many young ones. Folks of all races, ethnicities, cultures, even countries. Folks of all kinds. And I wonder how many of these — even I — might vote this year were it not for him. For this campaign. And I wonder how many other — who might not even vote for him — might vote because of him. And I can’t help but think that this is good. That this is something.

    Something is happening here. Oh, I hope — whatever it may be. Something is happening here.

    More applause.

    "We may call ourselves Democrats and Republicans, but we are Americans first."

    The crowd roards again, and a man, far back in a third-row seat, stares dumbfounded at the screen as we wipes his eyes.

    People believe this guy. They believe in him. And they believe that he believes in them.

    "America, this is our moment. This is our time to turn the page on the policies of the past."

    Do they really believe this is going to happen? That we will care for our sick? That we will provide jobs for all? That we will stop destroying our planet? They sure seem to. And I must say, it’s a beautiful, beauitful dream.

    Before he waves good-bye, he hugs his wife. And she says, "I love you." I’m pretty sure she’s not the only one.

  • Inside the Press Area

    7:28
    Inside the press area

    Obamamania takes no prisoners. The bloggers, who never entertained the pretense of objectivity, are the first to fall. One writer for local blog MNpublius is pacing the press area looking for a way out.

    "We are quarantined here!" he tells me.

    "It is morning in America. I wanna be cheering," he bellows to another writer, and then he turns and heads for the nearest gate. "I’m gonna go see if I can go to the risers…with the people. I don’t wanna miss this!"

  • Not with a Bang, But a Whimper

    This is the way the Democratic Primary season ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

    The presidential campaign that started with a listening tour designed to state the obvious — that people wanted Hillary Clinton to run — will end the same way, with people telling her it’s time to hang it up.

    Earlier in the day, McCain’s speech got the attention of the crowd. Two hours later, as Hillary addresses supporters in New York, there is not even a mention of the event inside this venue.

    Hillary Clinton is speaking in New York. She looks more relaxed than she has looked throughout her entire campaign, but gives the same speech she has been giving all along. Nothing new. Even now. Nothing new.

    "This is a long race, and I will not be making any decisions tonight."

    There will be no concession this evening, my friend.

    She asks the viewers to visit her website, as if somehow raising her traffic numbers will win her the race.

    She thanks. And she thanks. And she thanks her family, of course. She thanks Bill, of course.

    And she tells us of a woman in South Dakota, a woman who wants health care, and woman who — like everyone in this country — should have health care. And she is right. But we all know this.

    "There is nothing we all can’t do, if we just start acting like Americans again."

    She’s right. We’re not acting like Americans. Thank goodness.

    And yet… aren’t we?

    Here in the Xcel Center, no one is hearing this speech. Here we are all listening to Stevie Wonder and watching ourselves cheer on the overhead screen. Here we are clueless, except for those with laptops and portable devices.

    Here — down in the press area — we are worshiping our gods. Thomas Friedman is passing again, my friends. And Hill is done.

     

  • Turn It Down

    Press access to the general public has now been cut off. The only way out of the press area is through the tunnel.

    According to Tim Russert, Obama’s people are negotiating Hillary’s withdrawal. Hillary insists she should be offered the VP position, so she can turn it down and withdraw with dignity. Obama’s people are game, as long as she puts it in writing that she will not accept.

    At this point, it’s hard to say what speech to expect. How long before the Democratic nominee can gloat a little?

    Tom Friedman just walked in surrounded by cameras. Biggest star treatment yet. Thomas Jefferson arriving in Paris.

    8:25 p.m.

    The Xcel Center is filled to capacity, the crowd high on caffeinated drinks, fried foods and nachos are getting restless. We’re told the Xcel administration cut the crowd off at 20,000, but the center continues to fill with people, even behind the press risers, where the view, if any, is very limited.

    Outside the stragglers and protesters are dispersing. Inside the music is blaring.

    Hillary Clinton is expected to speak to her followers in New York at any moment.

    In 39 minutes the final polls close, and this marathon of a primary will end.

    Tonight, the buck stops here.

     

  • MSNBC — Reporting from the Twin Cities

    The screams continue as the overhead screens show MSNBC reporting from right here, the Xcel Center. Ah… now I understand why news reports always show people cheering in the background. They’re just cheering themselves on. How quaint. Somehow, as a viewer, you always assume the cheers are for the politician. (I should have known better.)

    It’s 7:12 PM, and the entire front area of the arena — the only part from whence you can see the stage — is now full. My bad. I see about twenty seats in the upper far corner, all the way in back.

    O-BAMA! O-BAMA! The crowd chants.

    Really we’re just sitting here watching the news, only with more applause — and more traffic on the way here.

    7:44 — Watching McCain’s speech in Lousianna.

    7:56 — "Yes We Can" video playing overhead.

  • Eye of the Storm

    After the press is settled in, the doors open to the general public. It’s about 10 past six. The crowds file in, steadily, slowly, filling the arena. Is this an arena? I think it is. And right now, it feels like we’re the show — broken gladiators. I don’t see anyone turn to the crowd. Photographers line up on the riser before the stage. The rest of us sit at tables behind them, on computers, on phones, jabbering away with fellow reporters, documenters of the times.

    $175 for an internet connection. $175! There are two of us. One of us will Twitter from the phone. Awful. Just awful. $175! (So much for Minneapolis public wi-fi when you’re in St. Paul.) Sodas are $4. They banned me from the $2 soda machine, which I though was bad enough.

    About three sections of the Xcel Center are completely full. That and half the center area — with press folk, of course.

    The crowds will continue to file in. We will continue to wait. It’ll be a while before the Man arrives. But now, he appears on the overhead screens. The crowd roars.

  • When I say "O", You Say "Bama!"

    7:00 p.m.

    Out on the sidewalk, the lines of people snake around the block. A pack of Obama playing cards sells for $10.

    The Obama volunteers are warming up the crowd as they make their way into the venue.

    "When I say O," chants one Obama volunteer. "You say…"

    "BAMA!" the crowd yells back.

  • Meet the Press

    Finding the press area was hard enough. All the way on the other side. No, go back the way you came. Straight down there and to the left. Down by the loading area. Across the street. Down. Down. Really? We have to cross the street — away from the Xcel Center — to get in. You’re kidding me.

    No. It’s true.

    I’ve never been here before, you see. And I’m already overwhelmed. But… this is the press. This is underwhelming — albeit the Harley strapped on to the back of a truck station. That’s something.

    The press area — an underground tunnel across the avenue and into the Xcel Center — is packed with… well — press. Your typical press peeps, really. Lots of ties. Ties with jeans. Slacks. Cameras. Suitcase even. Fairly loaded all around. I’m traveling light today.

    The workers keep telling everyone to be patient. They’re letting in live TV, 5-o’clock news in first. Of course. Makes sense to me. So why are people complaining?

    At least an hour and half until the doors open to the public (the beautiful public). Two more hours, more like three, until Obama steps up to the plate.

    Why are people complaining.

    We talk to a freelance photographer who is also waiting to get in. She never made it outside. Here’s the press, corralled into an underground tunnel, as the stories form outside. What are we doing here.

    Finally, they take us one more stage in the journey that awaits us — about 50 feet forward, to another line. Really? Why do we have to stand in lines? We can’t work here. Can’t we sit off to the sides? Can’t we mingle? Ask questions? Explore? We stand in line.

    But first the people roar as they run — yes, run! — fifty feet to the line. Yay! Another line. You’ve got to be kidding.

    One line here. Another there. There are about four separate lines, all at cross-purposes. The volunteers apologies. They blame it on the dogs. The dogs are busy sniffing for explosives now. I wonderful what god-awful place I may have placed my bag recently.

    Members of the press grow inpatient. Volunteers apologize, keep it in control. Members of the press grow indignant. One man raises his voice, upset because they’ve held him back due to his heavy loads. The dogs need to sniff them for explosives — now more than ever.

    Why are the media folks just standing there? Why is not even a single one of the 30-or-so photographers snapping photos? Why? Why?!

    Meet the press.

    …off to the metal detector.

  • Something in the Air

    I’m not easily moved — not
    by people anyhow, not by masses, that is. I was certainly moved by
    Brendel’s performance at Orchestra Hall a few months ago. And now, now
    I am moved. This time by people coming together. How sappy that sounds.
    How cynical I am.

    The Xcel is engulfed in bodies, live
    beautiful bodies, bodies of all ages, though I see few elderly folks
    (it’s harder and harder to leave the home), bodies in all tones, shades, and
    shapes, all styles, all types. Bodies everywhere.

    Something is happening here. That’s the overwhelming feeling. Something is happening. And I’m overwhelmed.

    A young blonde girl peruses a panel of Obama buttons held by an eager red-faced man in his early 40s perhaps.

    Three Somali women sit cross-legged on the grass behind her, next to six or seven teenagers sprawled across the cement.

    Something is happening and no one seems to want to miss it. They all seem to know.

    I
    get the feeling if it starts to rain these people will build a tent
    together. Perfect item for the 5-o’clock news. (We still have 5-o’clock
    news.)

    I’m a hopeless (helpless)
    romantic; it’s true. I live for this shit, but I don’t really believe
    in it. I’m skeptical, of course. I’m always disappointed. Something is
    happening, but is it? Should I be concerned that so many people think
    something is happening, when in fact, it’s not that big. It’s not that
    huge. Are we so easily impressed?

    No. We’re that desperate. And
    that’s OK. You have to start somewhere. And if this many people think
    something is happening, then, by Jove, something is happening.

    That’s something.


    More later… I’ll continue posting as the evening progresses.

  • Primarily Screwed

    If astronomers and astrophysicists are correct, we’ve got
    another 13-16 billion years until the universe collapses under its own mass and
    hubris in a Big Crunch – making it all the more impressive that it has taken just a few short months for Sen. Hillary Clinton’s
    world to implode, compacting itself into a fiery mass of universal healthcare and
    primary-hued pantsuits. And best of all, emanating from deep within the core of
    this soon-to-be black hole from whence no screams or painfully contrived holiday
    greeting     can escape, is a sound familiar to anyone with an eight year old –
    whining.

    Yes, even as we eagerly hang on every word about the hard
    fought Democratic primaries in Texas, Rhode Island, Vermont and Ohio from MPR
    correspondents and CNN pundits, tuning in to Naked
    News     just in case that austere and respected bastion of quality reporting
    may have picked up on a polling nuance that others haven’t, the Clinton camp is
    engaging in an entertaining campaign of whining and finger pointing. Top
    campaign advisors Mark Penn and Harold Ickes have already started to distance
    themselves from what is rapidly starting to appear to be a Dean-esque clusterfuck,
    with Penn saying something to the effect of, "I just stopped in to use the
    wi-fi and surf porn. They asked me about some campaign messages, but I didn’t
    think they’d actually take my advice. Dumbasses."

    And at this point, none of this comes as a surprise. The
    attitude of the Clinton camp from the launch of the campaign was that of the
    anointed standard-bearer of the Democratic party. As a result, the campaign
    became that painfully attractive guy/girl who feels like they can just lay
    there while we do all the work. What the Clintons didn’t realize was that
    liberals across America just wanted to get their freak on, and would happily do
    so with an upstart senator from Illinois with a populist message and a knack for oratory that can
    moisten progressive panties     from sea to shining sea.

    But since they were the front-runners for so long, don’t
    they have every right to be obnoxiously whiny? Are they not well within their
    rights when pointing fingers at the media for being so hard on Sen. Clinton, at
    each other for not providing winning strategies for undermining the hope for
    change that Obama uses as his rallying cry, and at Sen. Clinton for being the
    unappealing, though well-intentioned and profoundly intelligent, battle-axe
    we’ve all come to know and love?

    The simple answer is yes, they’re free to whine. This is
    America after all – a land where freedom reigns supreme, former Mickey Mouse Club members can parlay fame into
    failure and Cristina Aguilera
    turns out to be the sane one. But if they feel the need to whine, they should
    be whining about the right things – such as the fact that the campaign never
    recovered from its failures in Iowa, where underfunding and understaffing
    doomed Clinton to finishing in third place. Or perhaps they should focus on the
    painful truth that Bill Clinton’s hubris lost them several southern states as
    he fought a doomed campaign in South Carolina when he could’ve done far more
    good elsewhere, failing to make up for the lousy
    aim     that landed him in only the second presidential impeachment trial in
    the history of the United States. Or even worse, that the same political strategists
    who raked in $5 million in January alone, $10 million in total, can’t come up
    with a better idea to counteract Barack Obama’s surging popularity than the chimpanzee
    approach     – throw a whole lot of shit at the wall and see what sticks.

    Sadly, not much has seemed to as of yet. While Clinton is
    reeking of desperation, frustration and, in a futile attempt to appeal more to
    females aged 18-34, copious amounts of Axe Body Spray, Obama seems
    largely untouched. And despite the stench, Clinton says she’s "…just getting warmed
    up    ." Apparently the old girl needs a lot of foreplay. It’s a good thing Sen. Clinton
    is finally ready though, since by the end of today we ought to know if Hillary is as
    well and truly boned as the women Bill has been picking up along the campaign
    trail.