Whether you’ve been off saving the developing world or retreating to your own this summer, you quite literally must have been living under a rock for the past three months (or maybe just a palm tree in St. Bart’s) if you haven’t been keeping pace with the explosion of social division in our country as of late. Although we must unite in support of our country’s most accomplished athletes in less than a week’s time, and gear up to show the world, once again, the convenient correlation between wealth and victory (because World Wars I and II just weren’t enough), we continue to pick fights with each other over pantsuits and hairdos.
It is with a very heavy heart that I even mention the most divisive debate to date, and one from which our country may never fully recover: Kim K. vs. Tay Tay. One poorly edited Snapchat reel later and many of us have no choice but to sit idly by as our American sweetheart joins the ranks of other fallen heroes of the wrath of Kimye.
Speaking of successful bullies, this past week marked the culmination of two more American events that we love to hate. Sadly, the buzz generated from these DSG meetings on steroids, our beloved political conventions, which have manifested themselves into the politically-enlightened word vomit on your Facebook feeds, isn’t going away anytime soon, so we might as well begrudgingly embrace it.
They say, “Don’t hate the player,” but that’s basically the theme of the 2016 election season, and certainly one embraced by the Old Boys’ Club we know as the GOP. You didn’t have to watch a moment of the RNC to know that it would be a bombastic bonanza. Despite the yelling and rather disappointing celebrity lineup, I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t get the feels at least a couple of times, reflecting on the striking similarities to this party and those at our dearest Duke: primarily white, upper middle class and patriotically themed.
In terms of content, this red, especially white and blue D-list star-studded affair was just as confusing as many millennials’ new hybrid political affiliation, “socially liberal, yet fiscally conservative”...which roughly translates to, “I don’t really get why people are still whining about the moral perils of same-sex marriage, but Daddy says no Hamptons next year if CEO’s face tax hikes.” Under the guise of restoring the Christian values of love and generosity to our heathen society, many conservative disciples opted to sprinkle their own rhetoric with JC’s most beloved mantras: “destroy thine enemy,” “payeth for thine own healthcare,” and “thou shalt not peeith in close proximity to carriers of opposing genitalia.”
Really, it was a thoroughly spiritual affair.
Now before you shoot holes into my liberal agenda with your God-given and perfectly constitutional handguns, allow me first to get into the Democrats’ politically-correct shindig. There’s no denying that unlike their political rivals, they brought their fair share of semi-relevant celebrities and even injected a little humor into an otherwise dull event for everyone but the most avid policy wonks. It also goes without saying that the sea of liberals filling the stadium was sprinkled with a bit more color (and sexual preference...and gender diversity) than the RNC’s conservative crowd the week prior.
To be honest, the DNC kind of looked like a Duke brochure. You know the ones where they put a diverse group of minorities who’ve never even met each other on the cover? A Muslim parent of a fallen U.S. Army soldier? Check. A fifth generation patriotic Texan and advocate for immigrants’ rights? Got ‘em. A devout, yet pro-choice African-American preacher? Girl, please.
Besides blatantly pandering to every demographic group and their mother, whether or not any of them have any actual Congressional representation, the Libs used one of the oldest middle school campaign tricks in the book: utilizing endorsements from the popular kids (i.e. their giggling gaggle of celebs), to prove the validity of their campaign. It really was a bundle of fun to see Elizabeth Banks and a perfectly curated mix of lovable TV personalities and Average Joes breathe a new, annoying life into Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song,” but it’ll probably be just as effective at combatting terrorism as building a wall.
Between the excitement of Hollywood stars, songs and stand-up comedy, it was almost too easy to skim over the fact that the FLOTUS—and pretty much every other liberal idol—delivered more inspirational words than the prospective POTUS herself. After all, there’s no need to make a good case for yourself if everyone else, including your impeached husband, can do it better. Trumpy may be a more incompetent orator than your five-year-old cousin, but at least he’s got his base eating out of the palm of his hand. Talk about one big step for womankind and one more giant leap for powerful men.
Before you get your high-waisted shorts and headdresses in a twist over missing both the RNC and DNC this year, Monday Monday would just like to clarify that neither is, in fact, a summer music festival...though hallucinogens might have made both experiences much more bearable.
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