Songs In the Key of Left

Well now the North Koreans and I have one thing in common. One more thing in common, I mean. We both love a good political rally. Granted, today's Kerry-Edwards rally in Detroit did not feature a performance by intercontinental ballistic gymnasts.

But close.

Detroit! A once vibrant cultural capital, which in the last thirty years has become increasingly cracked-out and whacked-out. The city as metaphor for Diana Ross! Or is that the other way around?

Getting to Joe Louis Arena gave Drew and I an excuse to wallow in the industrial-gothic ossuary that is downtown Detroit: a Tintern Abbey on every block. Even in broad daylight the city seemed to be carved from shadows. If Detroit detoxes and attempts a comeback, it shouldn't try to reinvent itself as an entirely safe, hygenic or even pleasant place. For one thing, there is just too much Detroitage for this to be possible. But for another, I think it is the edgy, gothic aesthetic that would be a major draw. It shouldn't be branded as a place to raise a family, but as a metrosexual Mecca.

The rally goers were more retrosexual. In the row below me stood a tiny Arab man in a mesh cowboy hat who yelled out (ululated?) incomprehensible things, not when the rest of us were yelling out like automatons, but in moments of relative quiet. Needless to say he endeared himself to us all. Except for the woman next to me whose black schellacked hair may have in actuality been a helmet from the Kaiser's army.

She wanted to know the capacity of the hockey arena.

"Twenty-thousand?" I ballparked. She wasn't satisfied with my estimate and began tediously multiplying rows by aisles by sections.

"Looks more like eighteen, nineteen thousand."

"You win." My concession speech.

The party running-dogs began to hand out agitprop. Drew and I broke a few commandments to get our hands on the rare "Who Would Jesus Bomb?" bumper stickers. "You are not going to put those on your car are you?" the same lady asked. I explained that it was a joke, that Jesus wouldn't bomb anybody. "Oh" she said while otherwise showing no understanding. Tedious and humorless! A fellow liberal, natch.

Behind us were queeny lawyers in their mid-forties who made snide comments about the hacks on the dais in between their snide comments about Cher's very long "farewell tour." "It's not a farewell if she never leaves." Come on guys! We're trying to defeat Prop 2 here! Even I would be okay with denying civil rights to Cher hangers-on. Flaming liberals? Flaming somethings...

On stage the pagent played out: the aparachiks were followed by the comissars, followed by the "grandees" followed by the poobahs, followed by the muckety-mucks, followed by...Al Sharpton! This was unexpected. He gave his "faith without works is dead" sermon, making the case that the libs are more the Lord's side than the Republicans. I'll vote Dem despite that. The parade of competent, charismatic state Democrats gave me a rare moment of Michigan pride. Between Grandholm, Sander and Carl Levin, the Stab', Conyers, and union leaders like Hoffa, Michigan is bucking the nationwide trend of liberal apostasy. And on my ballot, the Levins run unopposed in adorability. Even if, or perhaps precisely because, the two of them together lack a quorum of hair.

And all of this was a prelude to the prelude, that being Stevie Wonder. He played something from Songs In the Key of Life as well as "America the Beautiful" on harmonica. After which, he delivered quite an empassioned speech against the war and divisiveness at home. But wait.

"I was reading about the situation in Iraq..." Stevie said.

Reading ? Drew and I looked at each other, supressing a laugh. The tedious, humorless woman next to us was suddenly both at the same time.

The pool reporters then began to flood in. This can only mean JFK is around here somewhere. Is that Adam Nagourney? Ad Nags! Oh, me so Nagourney! Drew pointed out a Detroit Public Radio personality looking as deshevled and tweedy as a crypto-socialist ought.

Kerry bounded down the stage to the podium. He is one of those rare figures whose physical presence squares with his public image. I've seen Clinton in person three times. Though he is a big fella, he is never as big as I expect in my mind, which is like fifteen feet tall. But Kerry is as large as he should be. He is a sarsen stone.

And a sovereign presence on the stage. Very much "Mr. Senator." Though he must have given variations on that stump speech hundereds of times, he was clearly not sleepwalking through it. His pauses were filled with thought and feeling. There were no poses, puff-uppery or asshole affectations. This makes me worry. I think Kerry is too good a leader for this country. I'm afraid we will get the president we deserve. The one who is a reflection of this deliberately uninformed, paranoid, carnivorous electorate.

"The masses are asses" Pedro Pietri said. In several hours we will find out in which states they live.