A few years back, there was a game show hosted by Howie Mandel called “Deal or No Deal.” In 2008, the show’s producers announced auditions were going to be held on April 5 at the Miami Valley Mall, just north of Dayton, Ohio.
My younger daughter and I thought it would be fun to participate and decided to try out. Even though the line was already several hundred deep when we got there the night before, we were fortunate enough to spend the night in the mall itself, unlike the thousands that came after us who spent the night outside.
Neither of us made the cut. But after witnessing the hopes and aspirations of people in the waiting line and experiencing the selection process, I came to the conclusion that the auditions may have been slightly disingenuous. I left thinking the real purpose of the event was to promote the show.
Isn’t that a little like elections, in that it sometimes seems elections are just a means of self-promotion for people with massive egos? I’ve always felt that way about the Clintons. But why would a successful billionaire like Donald Trump run for president? It might be for altruistic reasons, but I wonder if it’s more along the lines of Alexander the Great weeping because he had no more worlds to conquer. In the case of Trump, he had one more.
After each presidential election, the country usually looks forward to going back to some level of normality, as we all prepare in one way or another for the upcoming holiday season. But unfortunately, politics has become ubiquitous in American life, so during this time, there will be a lot said and written on why the election came out the way it did.
But all this serious political talk is endlessly dull. Let’s take a break and have some fun. Since the World Series just ended, I decided to summarize the election with a baseball-themed poem. So, with all due respect to “Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in the Year 1888,” by Ernest Thayer, I present to you,
Hillary at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in the Year 2016
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for progressive team USA;
The scandals were all a buzz and they had little left to say.
And with Michelle tending garden, and Biden feeling lame,
A sickly silence fell upon the liberals in the game.
A straggling few got up to go into deep despair.
The rest clung to that hope which today is so rare;
They thought if only Hillary could get a whack at that
They’d put up even money now if Hillary was at the bat.
But Warren was on a war path, ditto for comrade Bernie,
People knew the former was a lulu, and the latter a sight to see;
So, upon that stricken liberal multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Hillary getting to the bat.
But Warren decided to sit it out, to the wonderment of all,
And Bernie, the social democrat, never really got on the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and we saw what each one did,
There was Warren back at Harvard and Bernie just popular with the kids.
Then from a million throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through each Starbucks, and in Hollywood hard it fell;
It knocked upon the Hamptons and made top news on NBC,
For Hillary, mighty Hillary, had risen to take on the GOP.
There was ease in Hillary’s manner as she stepped into her place;
There was pride in Hillary’s bearing and a smile on her face.
And when, responding to the cheers, she doffed her designer hat,
No liberal in the crowd could doubt ’twas Hillary now at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on her as she prepared to lower the boom;
Five thousand tongues applauded throughout the convention room.
Then while the Secret Service nervously shifted their hips,
Defiance gleamed in Hillary’s eye, a sneer curled her lips.
One by one the accusations came hurtling through the air,
And Hillary just stood a-watching them in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy lady, Benghazi questions unheeded sped,
“What difference does it make?” said Hillary “Strike one,” someone said.
From BLM offices across the land there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
“How dare they ask that question?” shouted a supporter in the stand,
And it’s likely they’d have rioted had not Hillary raised her hand.
With a smile of liberal charity great Hillary’s visage shone;
She stilled the rising tumult; she bade the game go on;
She signaled to the nation, as an FBI email accusation flew,
But Hillary still ignored it, and that made it, “Strike two.”
“Fraud!” cried the maddened millions, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Hillary and her supporters were awed.
They saw her face grow stern and cold, they saw her muscles strain,
And they knew that Hillary wouldn’t let another go by again.
The sneer is gone from Hillary’s lips, her teeth are clenched in hate;
She pounds the podium with her fist during each and every debate.
Then when she claims under Trump the country will surely fail,
The air is shattered by Trump’s retort, “At least you’d be in jail.”
Oh, across the land this election year voters finally saw the light;
Bands are playing somewhere, and somewhere smiles are shining bright,
And somewhere candidates are laughing, and somewhere their children shout;
But there is no joy in the DNC—mighty Hillary has struck out.
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