As far as I am concerned the jury is still out. From what I can see, thus far, this is more of a Convention (capital C) in the conventional Vegazoid sense than I expected. Also, as at most conventions, people spend most of their time trying to figure out what’s going on, getting lost on elevators and chasing skirts or pants, depending on preference. Also, there’s a lot of consumption of unhealthy food and celebrity gawking. It has already been reported in many quarters that the Repub celebrity quotient is decidedly lower than the Democrat. What passes for a celeb around here is Sean Hannity who would have trouble getting a table a restaurant back in LA. [That’s a compliment, isn’t it?–ed. More or less.] As I type this, he’s directly across from me, blabbing away. [Is he ever off the air?–ed. I think he broadcasts in his sleep.]
Anyway, I’m off to the National Review party where Milton Friedman would probably be the equivalent of Jack Nicholson. Maybe that’s an improvement, depending on your point of view. Mine own self, I’m hoping for an open bar. Politics? What’s that and who cares?