Are There Piñatas at Political Parties?

I sent a note to my friend, the Republican, on Sunday night.

“I was at a party. I’ll hit you up later.”  That took me off guard.  Republicans at a party?  Maybe they had to sweep up after the convention, or get together to make fun of that old, white lady with the ridiculous hat CNN kept showing when they ran out of issues of substance.  I tried to imagine what a Republican party looked like.

The first image that came to mind was a pinstripe suit-wearing contest with prizes for the best red tie.  I don’t think Republicans have wet t-shirt contests unless someone throws Paul Ryan in the pool while he’s doing his P90X. Maybe they just play some shoot the tail off the donkey in teams, running pass interference with a Ruger, while some Democrats  come and try take the gun?

Naturally, they’d follow this with some Reagan-Bush impersonations.  I can see it now…fifty Republican partygoers taking a number to say, “No New Taxes,” and “Mr. Gorbachev—tear down this wall!”  The winner gets some stock in Enron, a NASCAR ticket, and a throwback Gipper jersey.

Democratic parties are easy to imagine. Parking lots filled with VW microbuses and Priuses,  the venue decorated in psychedelic paisley. There isn’t a cover charge because someone else always picks up the tab for the food. The feeling would be so much more festive than the Republican parking lot filled with SUVs and pickups–a representative of the Sierra Club lurking around the non-solar street light, taking names and numbers while the ozone layer dissipates overhead–leaving just enough room for God to smite some revelers.

I’m not sure whose music would be better–I rather enjoyed Governor Huckabee’s band at a rally last election. Democratic party music is historically pretty good if you like guitars twanging about social justice issues.  Still, that’s more enjoyable to me than country singers singing “Amazing Grace” while people cry. I’m sure the Democrats would play the Jimi Hendrix’s version of the national anthem, the one where you don’t even need to know the words.

Although the food wouldn’t be as great—platters of carrots, hummus, and other vegan spreads surrounded by home-juiced organic beverages devoid of GMOs.  All food would be local food that was planted together in harmony, coming from CSA’s less than one-hundred miles from the site. Which means no nachos and guac. Only mushrooms, locally foraged.

I bet Republicans have nachos and guac–the Laura Bush version where you substitute the lime for just a little bit of lemon. I’m sure the Republican bash would serve up deer and wolf jerky lovingly shot and field dressed by Sarah Palin and Ted Nugent singing Lee Greenwood’s “Proud to be an American.”

Maybe the food at the Democratic shindig wouldn’t be that bad after all.  There are always brownies at a Democratic party. And not those healthy paleo things either.  Ones that make you happy after you pick out the leaves and stems. Because who wants a brownie that doesn’t make you happy?

All this imagining is making it tough to decide which party I’d go to if given the chance.  In reality, I’m not going to a party at all. I’m going to stay home and look for crazy hats on the convention coverage tonight and wonder about the parties. But maybe it’s a good thing I’m split down the middle–perhaps this election cycle, if I’m lucky enough, I can go to both the parties and drink just a little kool-aid from each one.

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