OW goes to the RNC: Don’t say a prayer for us now, save it for the morning after.


Greetings, fellow conventioneers. My hangover and I are just waking up to discover, um, what the hell happened last night. Free beer (at Wonkette Drinky Thing) + free booze (at Homocon) = stumbling in stone-cold drunk at 3 a.m. (we must be lonely), or maybe later, because really, we lost track. But we did engage in journalism, as evidenced by Billy’s photobombing of anti-tax crusader Grover Norquist up above. So here is part 1 of our best effort to reconstruct the evening. (We’ll get to Grover and the gays next.)

The Wonkette Drinky Thing

First, an acknowledgment—Rebecca, the red-dressed maven of Wonkette, is an awesome and amazing person, and WE LOVE HER FOREVER, and Billy might have slipped her the tongue (see below). We and maybe a dozen of her blog’s devotees gathered on the patio of a place called MacDinton’s, which otherwise was occupied by shirtless joggers and beer bongers, to eat, drink, talk about politics, drink, yell at RNC speakers on the television, yell at each other about which one of them was the most horrible person, drink, prepare ourselves for the forthcoming American Taliban apocalypse, drink, etc.


So let’s talk about those speeches. No wait, let’s talk first about the abject racism. Like when that delegate threw peanuts at a black CNN camerawoman and said, “This is how we feed the animals.” Or when this happened. What you’re watching there is a bunch of assholes screaming “U-S-A” at a fellow Republican from Puerto Rico, apparently pissed off that a brown was allowed to speak, unaware that Puerto Rico is an actual part of the United States, and sounding not unlike a Klan rally. [Editor's note: This was, apparently, a misreported story, as is explained here by the Daily Kos. A report from Harper's has been amended to point out that other the chanting may not have been directed at the speaker at all]. And they wonder why minorities vote for the other guys. Okay, the speeches:
  • Rick Santorum is an awful, awful human being who says things like this (but probably shouldn’t): “I held its hand. I shook the hand of the American Dream. And it has a strong grip.” Anyway, Rick waxed philosophically about the days when sluts got married before popping out lots of babies (remember, ladies: birth control is “harmful to women”) and Barack Obama wasn’t putting all the blah people on welfare and making marriage disappear through “dependency.” There was also a lot of weird talk about hands.
  • John Boehner, the permatanned permadrunk who in 1996 passed out Big Tobacco’s bribe money on the House floor, whose House of Representatives is literally the worst ever, and who has the gall to blame the president for the stagnant economy when his own illiterate caucus won’t lift a finger to help, wants to throw Obama out of a bar.
  • Ann Romney, the lizard-lipped dressage queen married to a plutocrat whose father ran American Motors, would have us believe that, aw shucks, they’re just like us. I mean, heck, they even lived in a basement apartment (guys: What’s the over/under on the basement’s square footage? 2,000? 3,000?) And, gosh darn it, why are those meanie Democrats attacking Mitt’s “history of success”? It’s not like his (and her) fortune was built on the backs of the thousands of people whose jobs he outsourced while stashing millions in offshore tax havens.
After the Santorum-Ann Romney tag team, which was apparently brought to you by the 1950s, we’d had enough, and called a cab to take us to Homocon, which had to be better than this. Because anything had to be better than this. (That meant, by the way, that we missed Chris Christie’s keynote. Well, we didn’t miss it. You can see highlights here.) Up next: Homocon!    

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