So here’s my Friday. After a brief greasing with other bright cogs in the political machinery of goodness and light at Progressive Happy Hour, we hit the road for Seaside – destination Dorchester. Not for substance (don’t be silly) but for the annual Dalto Dance Party, and a damn good party it was!
Absolute trepidation upon arrival. It’s very strange to walk into a room where you know that everybody views you as the enemy (or you view them as the enemy - between truth and projection it all gets a bit confusing). Even though I’ve never met many of these people before, I felt like something about my demeanor, my clothes, my very person would surely give me away as a big D Democrat. Of course I was right. It’s a little off-putting to come into a conversation of people I considered strangers only to realize that they knew exactly who I was and who I worked for, without even having to hear my name. With considerable humor and presence of mind, they asked me if I was slumming. I’ll take that as a tribute to their research skills and a pointer on something that we could do better.
Much to my chagrin, there was no devil worship, no corporate alter (save the Shilo Inn itself) and no overt signs of the base evil which we assign to Republicans as a rule. And, people were very nice, very welcoming, and quite funny about our status as sworn enemies.
If I were into bipartisanship (I’m not), this is where I would recommend that you go to Dorchester so we could all have a “people are people” moment. Their hacks are as bad as our hacks (actually, their hacks are a bit better at the art of hackery), and they have reasonable people just like we have reasonable people. Kumbaya. If I were into alcoholism (I am), I would recommend that you go for the booze.
Anyway, we all know that sides have to be chosen and mud has to be slung.
On with the show. Lamp and Capitol Punishment performed both painful original live rock and some standards as requested by the Representatives in the house. But the party really got started when we went totally 80’s. Not only did they play all the best from that decade of audio excellence, but a big screen showed the videos (remember when MTV was still new) and PacMan chomped away at a console in the corner.
There were a ton of young people there. I mean a ton. Don’t go out on the dance floor alone ladies, because a swarm of baseball-capped young bucks will soon surround you – leaving you no choice but to freak one of them or execute a well-timed dive though their legs off the floor to freedom. Linda “Raise the Roof” Flores is a regular party in a pink jacket: the woman danced her ass off to every song, including George Michael’s model of moral values, “I want your sex.” Brian Boquist showed up in full Roosevelt Roughrider regalia, complete with belt o’ bullets. A local education board member told me that we ought to abolish all public schools. DiLo told me how much he loved “Avenue Q.” Troy, the perennial playa with the porn star name (yeah, I’d do him), sported a saucy tart with vacant eyes but a nice butt. An overly inebriated young man who was hanging rather closely on his slightly less inebriated buddy charged me when I told him that Jesus would still love him if they just made out. Glow-necklaces were freely tossed to the crowd. It was a really good party.
And here’s the thing: it was really fun. It was fun because the music was great, the party was crowded, and everybody was having a good time. We are, my friends, in danger of losing the “cool” war (lady in the America pants notwithstanding - I chose her photo because I'm not on their PR team). Everybody wants to be at the best party and whichever Party’s parties are better shall reap the rewards. Democrats tend to get so caught up in being earnest and righteous that we forget to just f*cking relax and have a good time. Oh yes, there was one other thing (Oregon Summit organizers please take note): Full. Hosted. Bar.
Lighten up. Live a little.