beep....kerchunk....yeeeeow!!!
I see what you see, if you're watching C-span at least. Some speakers, some fun, a bit of show. The crowd begins to encroach. Our territory! We bloggers need our seats! But, we can't say no. Have a seat. Take our plug. Get some juice. Take your video. Where's my jacket?
brrring. Tom Tomorrow calls. Long day. Tiring day. Following Michael Moore around. Mini-posse. Cameras - hit head, ouch! Michael! Michael! Hemmer sez, people want you dead? What the fuck! Fuck you CNN! Fuck you Hemmer!
Tom Tomorrow, well, we can call him Dan, sez, find your way up. Carter here, Carter there, Carters everywhere.
Up I go. Amy Carter. Lovely, hospitable, friendly and nice and charming beyond all requirements.. The Carter suite is my suite. Drinky-winkies, strangely absent from the Fleet Center, magically appear in the Carter skybox (And all of the skyboxes). Dan is there. Michael Moore. Al Franken. The unbearable darkness of fact-checking.
Meet Franken. Faux pas, perhaps? Snarky comment made. Not snarky against Al - snarky with Al. Perhaps misinterpreted. No big deal.
Carter speech. Knife. In. Twist. Smile. Brilliant. Leaders cannot mislead. Meet Mrs. Carter. Meet President Carter. They begged for an honest man, and they drove him out of town. Bastards.
Later. Hillary. Big Dog. Post-convention, find the party.
Off to the Oregon-NC delegate party. Connection unclear, but cheers to those at Cheers.
Jacket lost. Shit happens.
Pictures to come. "National Treasure" (no, not Atrios). Three heads, maybe four. From the back,
