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Lone Tree [Change Location]

Blog Entry 164 of 181 Suburban Dementia
Expect me to write about the convergence of random events, the persistence of memory (Dali's melting version), juxtaposition of opposites, the phenomena of unintended consequences, and the mundane details of my life. Mostly, I expound on the absurdities of life in general, but the suburbs in particular.

Not my party (but I'll cry if I want to)


I didn't realize attending the Democratic National Convention press party at Elitch's involved private subparties, which didn't seem all that democratic to me. I suppose these thoughts happen when standing on the other side of the fence or red velvet rope. That's the trouble with equating democratic principles to equal access; there're just never enough chairs.

Of course, I can't say that Democrats are truly more egalitarian than Republicans nor make the assumption that journalists covering the convention are mostly Democrats; at the very least they're probably discouraged from saying so. The Flobots tossed out a double entendre about affiliation during their performance. The question "Are you here for the party?" allowed gathered media to cheer without taking sides.

After being turned away from the Denver Newspaper Agency private party twice, I debated the options.

  1. Stand at the perimeter and take paparazzi-style photographs of possible Rocky Mountain News luminaries I've read for years and might even recognize from those little byline photos.
  2. Plead my case as a peripheral adjunct to the Denver Newspaper Agency.
  3. Slip in with someone else's large, boisterous group. Unfortunately, none presented itself, exploding the myth about journalists' notorious carousing.

On the Outside, we had trouble locating a convenient glass of wine, although beer stands were plentiful; one of the party cosponsors was Molson Coors. Still, when I observed someone flashing a wristband entering the coveted DNA event, all my party envy ceased, despite the fact the full bar was visible. I already had one Over 21 wristband and didn't want my arm feeling overdressed. Also, it occurred to me I wanted to get in mainly because I couldn't.

Later, approaching a restricted access VIP area, I asked one volunteer bouncer, "So, who's the biggest VIP you've seen tonight?"

He shrugged. "I dunno."

A woman behind him answered. "The Governor. You know, this is a media party. No one important is here."

"I beg your pardon?" I said.

"Well," she amended, "besides you and me."

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Democracy has been a misnomer since its modern inception in America. When they said,"All men are created equal", that is exactly what they meant, "All Men". And they only meant men with money, land,and power of European heritage. A quick look at the Constitution reveals this fact as well as the fact that five of the first seven presidents were slave owners. When were women first allowed to vote? When were slaves first allowed to vote? Democracy will always be tainted as long as people deemed special get special treatment and are allowed to exclude the few.

Newspaper people are scared of bloggers Karin!

You found out how important you are to the DNA.
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