Celebration time: Day-Two-Which-Is-Actually-Day-One of the Republican Convention is now, as we speak (type), UNDERWAY in Tampa, a hot parking lot located in a swing state. We can assure you that our investigations have revealed that absolutely no one, including those in official capacities, know where the fuck they are supposed to go right now. Here are a few of the most crucial "insider" factoids that you will need to know about this vital U.S. political institution going forward:
To ensure that whites are not forced to expose their flesh to the sun's damaging rays, the convention's organizers have erected a tunnel made of sheets draped over astroturf leading to and from the convention center, where the press is headquartered, and the Forum, where the actual convention is being held. All day, white men in blue suit jackets stride three abreast down this tunnel, into destiny.
Here is the view from the press stand, located conveniently off to the back and side of the stage so that journalists cannot see anything. Nice, right? (No.) In any case, we cannot file from this section, because Gawker Media did not pay money to secure an assigned seat and phone line in this section. ("It's very expensive," noted the Republican media liaison, helpfully.) Instead, your humble correspondents are forced to trudge back and forth between buildings and through a maze of soldier cops in order to file these Important Reports to you, the reader. When will Gawker Media's parsimonious skinflintiness stop hurting America?
Look at this guy. Looks like Alex Trebek right after he accidentally swallowed a cockroach, right? It's not though.
And the most important and, frankly, shocking finding of all: motherfuckers have a TelePrompter.
I'm rethinking a lot of things right now. A lot of things.
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