Friday, September 5, 2008

Stretch run

This morning we awoke to a world without big political conventions -- and what a glorious world it is.

Looking back at the parties' parties, the Democrats survived the PUMAs and emerged with something close to the unity they sought. Although not to my political tastes and far from perfect, it was, by any credible measure, an extraordinarily well-produced and successful event. Grade: A-.

Note to the DNC: Good show. No more silly-ass columns.

The Republican National Convention, however, may well be hoist by its own petard. Its minimalist set and low-key stagecraft, ostensibly for the purpose of making the Democrats look overly gaudy by comparison, did nothing to contribute excitement to the festivities -- and creating excitement, really, is the whole point of a convention.

That left the job to speakers and other players. With the exception of Gov. Sarah Palin and possibly Mayor Rudy Giuliani, none delivered. Grade: C.

Now, as the campaign enters its final 60 days, the big, bad, "elitist liberal media" are reporting on a number of unforced errors committed by the GOP in St. Paul.

I'm sure you've heard that as a high-school basketball star, Gov. Palin earned the nickname "Sarah Barracuda." Naturally, I suppose, Republicans decided to play the 1977 hit "Barracuda" by the rock group Heart at every opportunity during the convention -- without permission, as it turns out, prompting this statement from Heart's Ann and Nancy Wilson:

"Sarah Palin's views and values in NO WAY represent us as American women. We ask that our song 'Barracuda' no longer be used to promote her image. The song 'Barracuda' was written in the late '70s as a scathing rant against the soulless, corporate nature of the music business, particularly for women. (The 'barracuda' represented the business.) While Heart did not and would not authorize the use of their song at the RNC, there's irony in Republican strategists' choice to make use of it there."
Ouch, babe.

On Monday evening, Mrs. KintlaLake and I watched Cindy McCain and First Lady Laura Bush speak on the convention's unofficial "Hurricane Gustav Day." I remember my wife wondering aloud about the designer of Ms. McCain's striking dress.

Seems Vanity Fair was curious, too, and promptly put its research team on the case. Naming the designer, Oscar de la Renta, wasn't the half of it, though -- according to the magazine, the estimated price tag of dress, shoes, watch and necklace was a whopping $20,000.

People just like us, eh?

There's more: including her three-carat diamond earrings, the total came to more than $300,000.

Look, it's the McCains' hard-earned money and they have every right to spend it as they like, but this sort of extravagance is colossally bad form on the campaign trail. It's not something the Obama campaign will mention, however -- both because they shouldn't and because they won't have to.

And then there's the inexplicable matter of a certain image that appeared on the big screen behind Sen. John McCain's acceptance speech on Thursday.

First, the camera went to a tight shot, setting Sen. McCain against a field of green -- just like that cheesy green background in Louisiana a few months ago.

It may sound like the teleproduction equivalent of inside baseball, but green is bad and this was a mistake -- a repeat mistake, this time with the highest of stakes.

When the camera went wide again, I saw that the green field actually was a lawn in front of an elegant stone building. At the time, the first thing that occurred to me -- Why are they showing a photo of some big, fancy villa? -- made absolutely no sense, especially after the lamentable seven-homes flap.

I shook my head and turned my attention back to the speech. It wasn't until today that I got, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story.

The building isn't a villa at all -- it's Walter Reed Middle School in North Hollywood, California. (Nice digs, kids.)

Wait a minute -- could it be (as many today are speculating) that some junior McCain staffer was asked to find a photo of Walter Reed Army Medical Center and picked a junior high instead?

The McCain campaign says no, this was exactly the photo they wanted -- a schoolhouse with a flag and a porch, typical postcard Americana.

I don't believe that for a second.

Adding insult to self-inflicted injury, Walter Reed Middle School has issued a statement saying that the RNC didn't have permission to use the image to promote Sen. McCain's candidacy.

Sound familiar?

Unforced errors kill more campaigns than do October surprises engineered by the opposition. If McCain-Palin can't eliminate the screwups, they're going to fade into also-ran status.

As it is, they're already making me feel unwell about casting my vote in their direction.