When I was first in graduate school I had trouble reading theory. I think everybody does, and there is usually a reluctance to admit it. Some people, on the other hand, make it a point to say that the reading was "gobbledygook," or that the theorist was crazy. While teaching composition, I had a student tell me that Eliot "could have made it clearer." I remember moaning to my wife that it's come to this, the self-esteem baby on board generation thinks that the problem is with TS Eliot, not their own ability to comprehend, or to sit with, his work. Baudrillard really kicked my ass, but I never thought it was him. I'm not of the self-esteem generation, though, and I kind of hate myself. So I'd be one of the last ones to blame it on the author. Years later, when reading for my PhD exams, I took an entire month to read his A System of Objects. It was well worth it, for I hit a home run using one of the passages I had fully digested. My first reading of Baudrillard, all those years ago, was the essay "The Precession of Simulacra." I have since taught that in my film studies class, but I think only eight or so percent of the class read it -- or read it past the first couple of paragraphs. Still, a few put it to good use in writing about The Truman Show, and the rest perked up when I told them that the actual book appears in The Matrix. Anyway, what I really remember about that first time I read Baudrillard was the picture of Ronald Reagan, or "Ronald Reagan," on a big screen above his wife, Nancy, after she got done with her speech at the Republican National Convention. They were pulling out all the stops that year because Walter Mondale had them sweating bullets. They knew that with Mondale's charisma and the nation's longing for a return to the Carter years, they would have to buckle down, get nasty, and even put technology to use. Baudrillard, per his title, talked about the image preceding the reality, and that bit discussed the extent to which Reagan was all image. I don't know the history of first ladies, potential or actual, speaking at conventions. I don't know if Rosalyn or Pat or who have you spoke on behalf of Jimmy and Dick. When those guys ran, conventions were about actually nominating the candidate -- and by that I mean it wasn't merely ceremonial. There were the proverbial fat cats, the machine heads and monopoly men cutting deals and glad-handing and back-stabbing and smoking cigars and talking about broads. I know that Humphrey was nominated in 1968 without having run in a single primary or caucus, and the Republican convention was a free for all as late as 1976, and the same for the Democrats as late as 1980. The conventions turned into a coronation, or pageant, or infomercial (pick your analogy) after the primary and caucus systems came to dominate the nomination process. I think -- but note that I don't know this for a fact -- this is when the wives starting talking. Do you remember the "softer side of Sears"? I think this is the equivalent of the softer side of the candidate, the side only the wife knows. The alcoholism, the impotence, the cross-dressing. No wait. Not that soft. Anyway, Baudrillard talked about the candidate appearing on the screen over the wife. Since then, it's been pretty common.
I remember Walter Mondale on a screen sitting in a hotel room after his wife spoke in 1984. I only remember that, and I'm not sure if it was after his wife spoke but it would seem to make sense, because I asked my dad if he was going to speak and he said no, not for a couple of days. I have fond memories of watching such political events with my dad. He had a quasi-political job, and he liked that I was interested in our government. His attention during such events came in and out in waves, and he was often sunk deep in his chair behind a newspaper while I was on the floor with my dog splitting a bowl of popcorn. I remember in 1988 when Tom Brokaw set Dan Quayle up for his National Guard question. I have to hand it to my dad. He was behind his newspaper, and per usual he had an ear out for what was happening. When Brokaw started in on his line of questioning, by the second or third one the old man came out from behind the newspaper and said "turn it up, turn it up." I turned it up as I looked up at him and then back toward the television. Quayle looked like he was having one of those dreams where you realize that you're out in public in your underwear. Let's see. What else do I remember? I don't remember Barbara Bush speaking in 1988. I don't remember Kitty Dukakis speaking either. She was probably busy being raped and murdered by Bernard Shaw. I don't remember Hillary Clinton speaking in 1992, but I do remember Barbara speaking that year. The economy was in the toilet, so the GOP shipped in all those babies and had their "family values" convention. Barbara told some cornball story that I'm sure never happened about one of her children breaking a window with a batted ball. She was pissed, so she called her husband, George. Instead of being mad, it turns out that old George was beaming proud that his boy had hit such a whopper. See, they're just regular folks like you and me. As I said, I doubt that any such thing really happened. Well, maybe young George broke some windows in a coke-fueled rage, but that ain't the way Barb told the story. What else? I remember Marilyn Quayle talking in 1992. That year, the family values year, part of the plan was to paint the Clintons as crazy hippies from the sixties. She talked about how not everybody from her generation turned on, tuned in, and dropped out. Yeah. I don't think a guy who is running for President of the United States dropped out of anything, especially society. That was the tag on the Clintons that year, though. They were painted as radicals. Sound familiar? Then, in 1996, Liddy Dole had what was called her "Oprah moment." That was when she was telling the nation about the Bob she knows, and she walked down into the audience. That's pretty much all I remember of that one. At the time I was in a bad relationship that was ending slowly and painfully, so I was probably bombed on bourbon and pot when Liddy took her stroll. I do remember later that autumn Bob Dole falling off of a stage. I never disliked Bob Dole. He always seemed like a decent guy to me, and was moderate enough for Newt Gingrich to have referred to him as a tax collector for the welfare state. Bob lost, though, and I was glad enough. By then, I was pretty tired of Bill Clinton, though. He had signed welfare reform into law, and he had also pandered to the worst in this country by signing the Defense of Marriage Act. And this guy was a radical, don't forget. As for 2000, I don't remember Tipper talking, but I do remember that kiss Al planted on her before his big speech. I was home visiting my family then, and I remember my mother saying something like "yikes." In 1992, Al had told the story of his son being run over. In 1996, he told the story of his sister dying of lung cancer. By 2000, I think Al had run out of family tragedies to mine. At least I don't remember him telling any such stories. I remember his speech having kind of a populist touch. I don't remember watching Lieberman's old lady talk, or Laura or Lynn. I don't remember the latter two talking in 2004, either, but I'll bet both were odd and scary. The same has to go for Teresa Heinz, if she even talked. I remember Kerry's daughter speaking on the night that Senator John gave his big talk. She was perfectly pleasant and humanized him a bit. It must have helped since Kerry probably won the election. He certainly carried Ohio. That's what a lot of people don't understand about 2008. Barack Obama will win the election, certainly Ohio, because Ken Blackwell is not around to rig it this time.
So last night Michelle Obama talked. I thought she did a great job. I liked her brother, her mom seemed like a sweetheart, and she must have aced Al Gore's class on conveying a family tragedy to tell the world (to paraphrase "The Office") "this is my blood -- it's red just like yours." Her father worked for thirty years in a water treatment plant in Chicago, and photographs indicate that he wore awesome glasses. He suffered from Multiple Sclerosis and passed away in 1991. I think the goal was to show the world that she is much more like Claire Huxtable than Angela Davis. I think that compared to Cindy McCain, the Hitchcock blonde that John McCain started nailing when his first wife got too old and deformed from an illness, she will be seen as down to earth and warm. I really like how she said "you see" before lining up an important point. It made her seem clear-headed and emotional all at the same time. Okay, now back to Baudrillard. I wish the night would have ended when she said "thank you." Instead, they brought her very cute children onto the stage. I can live with that. Barack and Michelle are both attractive, so the fact that they have cute kids shows that there is an order to the universe. Why oh why did they have to beam in Barack from Kansas City? It was contrived, and it made me feel like they were interacting as a family so that Middle Americans to see that these black folks are just like people. Such a linkup means that there is a delay in the conversation. He would be answering one question while one of the kids was asking another. It made it awkward. I also thought it was corny that he was sitting with a typical midwestern family. They seemed to have an Italian last name, so it is likely that they were working class Catholics. What a demographic coincidence that was. I just hope that they didn't serve him three-eyed fish for dinner. So in conclusion, great speech, Michelle, but I wish you wouldn't use your kids to score political points. I also wish you hadn't gone the video linkup route. How can something so postmodern be such a cliche? And it's just odd and weird. I'd wonder out loud how this cornball stunt played in Peoria, but who the hell cares? Obama is going to carry Illinois with ease.
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