Last night, I went to an Obama house party. Not such a a big surprise since there were probably seven million of them in Manhattan alone, but this one was nice. Gen. J. Scott Gration, USAF (ret), the first general to come out publicly as an Obama supporter, and Jamie Rubin (AKA Mr. Christianne Amanpour and a former under-secretary of state in the Clinton years) both preached to the choir. And a choir it was.
On the one hand, I appreciated it. I really did. And I was glad to be there, glad to have given money, glad to see everyone so keen on an Obama victory. On the other, looking around the room at the hair that was clean but unconditioned, the faces that were put together with a touch of mascara but no foundation, thanks, and all the very, very understated but sometimes funky jewelry, I felt, a little, I don't know, tamped down. Like, where was the person with whom I'd respectfully disagree?
The party sprawled over three apartments and they managed to set up an audio feed in the apartment where the speakers weren't, but I was and remain just a bit surprised that they didn't swing an audio feed into the elevator, you know, with a little Bill Frisell to set the mood? I love Bill Frisell! Good times, I tell you. That would have been some good times.
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