Chair Man of the Bored

An empty chair

Those who work for a living will likely not hear the buzz  this morning over the "surprise" appearance of Clint Eastwood on the final night of the Republican Convention. The wild-haired, aging actor shuffled to the podium at the peak of the evening's excitement, and the audience went wild. To the left of the podium was a straight-backed empty chair, and in his classic hoarse voice, he delivered a scene in which he conversed with an imaginary President Obama seated in the chair. The audience grew antsy; it was AWKWARD. You can watch the whole thing on YouTube.  Maybe you'll see why I wanted to attack Eastwood with a hairbrush and some Sucrets.
Political conventions have deteriorated into performances like a beauty pageants, with delegates from each state competing to be the most intelligent, wholesome, and yes, the most beautiful. Candidates parade through hundreds of delegates, sporting perpetual smiles, hoping to win at least the Congeniality Award. They're challenged to answer a perplexing socio-political question in a few seconds; like, "Should old actors be forced to retire?"
Let's go one step further. Millions of dollars and months of time could be saved if we eliminate conventions altogether. The most talented persons in America are selected on "America's Got Talent," with voting as simple and fast as sending a text message. We could elect the best person for president simply by turning over our election process to a 15-year-old girl with a Facebook account and a passion for posts.
I would, however, miss the balloon drop.