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  INCOMING! AUGUST 30, 2004.  

I'm going to dispatch with this quickly. After having received notes from several shadow protest organizations to sign up for volunteer work and then not show for your assigned role, I've decided that the passive-aggressive mole-nosed nature of so many protest groups is just silly. Having been through my share of anti-Republican rallies during Philly RNC 2000, having been personally pushed, prodded and pony-pumped by the Grand Horseman of the Apocalypse, police commissioner John Timoney, while wearing a then-new Gucci two button suit, I can tell you that all protest does is mess up your clothes and block traffic. It never

Click to Visit the RNC Archive.

ever addresses those you need it to. Trust me.

Unless you strike them with a crème pie or yank their quadruple malt scotch away from them during a cocktail party, they aren't listening. That said, you -- the Billionaires for Bush, the religiosos from the Accountability Project and the million-men marching for Not in Our Name's Still We Rise Rally (Aug 30, Union Square at noon), Shout Heard Around the World (Aug 31, 11 a.m., my throat hurts already) and Demonstration in Words (September 1, 20 poets at St. Mark's Church… At least it isn't puppets!) -- can meet ME at the Visitor's Center at 820 Seventh Avenue between 52nd and 53rd Streets, where I'll be snagging my Peaceful Political Activists Savings Card. I hear their giving away Lo-Carb Zone bars. Sweet.

That said, does August 30's welcome-wagoning Mayor -- our convention's first speaker, Michael Bloomberg -- really think the convivial cartoons and the egregious congeniality pasted onto its's site and its discount-saving Peaceful Political Activists plan will help detract from the seething hatred that people of sense, color, and soul feel for the RNC?

Let's head straight to our first night out with the Republicans and their speakers. They're heading for you. And they aren't veering.




Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg

America's wealthiest mayor takes time from killing off New York City's bar charms, offering up Walkin' Broadway tours and cheap reasons to go to the Museum of Sex other than to jack off to pictures of the Kinseys to speak to the delegates. What can he offer you other than the danger of his city's proximity to terrorist goal posts? A whopping dang-good time far beyond the sedative Darvaset-like doldrums of Boston, I can tell you that. I'd rather have an army of Islamic godfighters pulling bone marrow from my prick than spend one afternoon throughout the whole of Massachusetts. I don't care if Bloomberg bans smoked meat. I'm here.

Rudolph W. Giuliani

Like Bill Clinton and FDR, any elected official who's got the spunk (literally) to hump around while married is OK by me. Right there, Giuliani has me. At hello, if you like. So the Brooklyn bulldog and America's Mayor can't get any grief from me, despite having been the guy to initiate the turn of Manhattan's sleazy red light district to all hazy powder blue and Sneezy/Dopey and nice. That said, New Yorkers certainly have had to deal with a lifetime of bad comb-overs, questionable takes-and-makes when he was New York's U.S. Attorney for the Southern District. But I lived here under Dinkins. What I do I care?

Sen. John McCain

The Republican from Arizona has become the great


fawning ingénue of the right: a pal of the enemy candidate, John Kerry; a guy who didn't seem too terribly quick to support Dubya in this re-election; an enfant tereeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeble for left-of center causes; a light-comedian who got in good with the cast of The Daily Show, what with his preening self-deprecating manners but staunch beliefs. And how does he get away it? Because he got wounded in Vietnam while in the Navy only to be an abused POW at the hands of communist insurgents for over five years. That's a worthy reason so to get a pass for even the most asinine regulations. So what would be my problem with him? As a Vietnam vet, his heroism must daily be a model for flippity-floppity monster head Kerry; a man who has played up his own heroism with the hammy grandeur worthy of a Ferrante and Teischer concert held in anticipation of the Ben Hur premiere.





Laura Bush

Unlike female Dems, whose connections to their men are questionable -- wiggy moneyed merry widow Teresa Heinz Kerry, evil schemestress Hilary Rodham Clinton -- Laura Bush is just a nice woman who got stuck with a bad dude. The library science major and the coke-addled rich boy; you've heard this story a hundred times. He promises to make a real man of himself, in-between long, deep sweaty bolts of blow -- licking at his dry lips, tapping and tugging at his nose -- and long, dark drives into the Texas night. She calmly listens. She stays put. She knows the tortoise gets the hare every time.

Fast forward to the present: With the cocaine and the booze all dried up, and the first four years of a Presidency behind them, the proud Lady Laura -- a model of calm so unlike the twitchy Pat Nixon, Betty Ford or her bug-eyed First-Lady-In-Law Barbara Bush -- a woman whose spent the First Term with dumbo reading programs and insidious anti-drug forums, is probably thisclose to exploding. I know it. It might not be during this speech. Or the next one. But she's gonna bust like a hot water pipe some day.

Rod Paige

Without Condi Rice or Colin Powell representing, U.S. Secretary of Education Dr. Rod Paige fills the


void. Yeah. Not really.

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger

Schwarzenegger neatly rounds out this uneven evening with reams of rhetoric culled, they tell me, from his various cinematic escapades. You know the drill. "Bush'll be back." "Hasta la Vista, Kerry." Look, for some long missing hidden scenes from Twins to figure neatly on the addition extras of this 2-DVD collectors' edition.





Lynne Cheney

Why do so many women who grace the White House with this sorta shocking proximity write children's books? Is that how they feel about their constituency? That they're nothing more than glorified Sponge Bob-bers? And what could she tell you about the President? He's always having heart attacks or hiding out in bunkers, or… OH. SORRY.

Vice President Dick Cheney

Once called the CEO to Bush's Chairman of the Board, I like to think of side-talking Dick Cheney as a mensch amongst morons; the Queen Bee; the Sun King; the Dr. Evil to Bush's No. 2; the soulless companyman who lies in wait within the blackest heart of the cruelest corporate sorts. The very ultimate backgrounder, Cheney managed to run the ever-besieged, tax-insured loan hogging fat-contract-handing Halliburton without a whit of interference while walking between the raindrops of the current SEC's investigations; created national energy plans based on the Christmas-y desires of his pals in oil/nuclear power and his peculiar vision of the sun as an unreliable source of light and good; and worked in connections with Saddam Hussein and Moammar Gadhafi to insure his profit was our doom.

I wish he would come out and play more often.

Democratic Sen. Zell Miller





Gov. George Pataki

The Governor of New York has managed to be the grayest man in American politics since his election. That he's been chosen as the opening act for the party-elect President is akin to having Five for Fighting open for a dog whistle. Expect endless jokes about having the same first name though.

President George W. Bush

I smoked so much pot during the last presidential campaign, I actually think I voted for him. Now sober and straight, I can assuredly state that that doesn't seem like quite the best decision. Huh. Yet, I still can't say how I feel about the Frankenberry of American politics on the opposing side either. And face it: You're not so sure yourself.

So listen to him dis Kerry's war record and flip-flopping senate record, hear him drawl on about


the doom he presumably saved us from. And see if you can't find the dealer who sold me the skunk in 2000. That shit was noice.





With the dry spittle cleared away from the collective mouth of every New Yorker who lived in fear and loathing of a Republican planet, Mother Jones magazine has gathered a slew of comedians I love and hate, in order to restore Left-centric order to the community on Saturday, September 4 at Town Hall. "People say to me all the time that when they look at the direction of America, they don't know whether to laugh or cry," says Mother Jones publisher Jay Harris from his press release for The State of the Union: A benefit to assist the voice of independent media. "I tell them they should laugh -- and vote." Oh. I think he forgot something:


With America's premier political comic … after Jon Stewart, after Dennis Miller, after … sound of crickets … Will Durst … emceeing the event, comic/cringe-worthy crooner Eugene Mirman,


drained-dry ironist Todd Barry and political cartoonist/illustrator Ward Sutton will surely debate the merits of having white delegates from Nebraska and hardy-hardy-ho-ho politicos from Idaho run their city into a psychic funk the likes of which caused me to shoot meth between my toes in disgust.

Oh, and Janeane Garofalo and Lizz Winstead are there. I can't stand either of them except to say they belong, where they are, on Air America.


A.D. Amorosi is a freelance writer for several alt-weeklies, including the New York Press and Philadelphia City Paper.


INCOMING! runs every Monday on The Black Table.