Dateline: Denver, Colorado–8/27/08–5:45 PM Mountain Time
As many of you may have guessed, my great role model in life is Bugs Bunny.
Other than the one where he sells some yokel the Brooklyn Bridge (“But where to find a rabbit in the city? No, he must go to the country, to the forest primeval, to Flatbush”), my all-time favorite Bugs cartoon is the one where he encounters Pete_Puma.
To those who don’t recall, the Puma just never grasps the reality of the situation. No matter how many times the Puma is outsmarted, the Puma is under the illusion that the battle is not over, and somehow, by playing by the same old rules, instead of assimilating the new realities, the Puma is going to outplay and outsmart the Rascally Rabbit and emerge triumphant. Instead the Puma keeps getting a head full of lumps.
And no matter how many times the game is clearly over, the Puma just doesn’t get it.
Today, much is made by the mainstream media of the party disunity exemplified by the Hillary die-hards of PUMA (Party Unity My Ass). But, as I’ve noted this week, even in the New York delegation, I’ve found no diehards.
Perhaps I hadn’t looked hard enough. This morning, I stumbled upon a large helium balloon advocating the impeachment of both Bush and Cheney in front of a church filled with what looked to be a Woodstock reunion being held at senior’s complex in Boca. It turned out to be the “Progressive Central” conference being held by “The Nation” and “Progressive Democrats of America”.
Curious, and looking for some laughs, I found mostly common ground, even with the sweet old man wearing the “Free Gaza” button.
“Hey”, I asked, “didn’t the Israelis leave already?”
He conceded many of my points, but came to his different conclusions very civilly, as the conversation flowed onto other subjects where, even when we didn’t agree, the laughter flowed heartily.
Why can’t the blogs work that way?
Once the fun started, I was pleased to find myself watching the audience of this event, doubtless filled with folks who supported Kucinich, Edwards and Obama, cheering wildly when the host praised the prior night’s speech by Hillary Clinton. Then the host introduced the day’s first speaker, Kim Gandy of NOW.
Ms. Gandy, who zealously campaigned across the country for Senator Clinton, began her speech by trying to convince the former supporters of Hillary in the room (probably comprised solely of Ms. Gandy and myself), why they now had to back Barack Obama.
Ms. Gandy’s explanation of why it was a good thing for Hillary’s name to be put in nomination sounded almost like a column I recently published on the topic (and Hillary’s speech in many ways echoed the speech by Mo Udall quoted therein, albeit with fewer jokes and more passion).
Afterward, I caught up with Ms. Gandy, who seemed none-too- pleased by the question posted to her by Gatemouth:
“What do you have to say to Marcia Pappas?” (For the benighted, Pappas is the frenetic fanatic heading New York NOW, who, when she is not sending Obama demands for ransom, is calling upon women to stay home or write-in Senator Clinton).
Ms. Gandy made a face like she had just been asked to perform an unnatural act involving John McCain (like voting for him). She muttered something unintelligible, and then said, “I didn’t pick her, and I don’t live in New York State, so I didn’t vote for her.”
So, one could find PUMAs neither in the New York delegation or the feminist movement (excepting certifiable lunatics like Ms. Pappas).
On the street, I eventually found a group of five white and Latina women ranging in age from approximately 30 to 80 (mostly around 70), dressed from head to toe in Hillary regalia.
I asked if they were PUMAs; they said they were from Colorado Springs (the Buckle on the Colorado Bible Belt) and were looking for the PUMA demonstration, but could not find it. I agreed it was difficult to find PUMAs.
Wearing my “I’m a Hillary Clinton Democrat for Barack Obama” button, I confidently gave them my lecture on John Paul Stevens, Ruth Bader Ginsberg and choice, even though choice appeared to be an issue of personal consequence to only one of them.
They rebuffed me angrily. If the Supreme Court went totally right wing, it would serve the Democrats right for what they had done.
They cursed Obama, they cursed Howard Dean, who was blamed for not properly clarifying the role of the Super Delegate (which I thought was to ensure that party hacks got seats at the convention); they cursed Nancy Pelosi (so much for this being about feminism).
I mentioned the war. The junior member of the assemblage then said that Obama just wanted send the troops out of Iraq and into Afghanistan.
But isn’t that Clinton’s position as well?
The eldest woman in the group started making supportive statements about McCain, although the others maintained a stony silence.
One woman started ranting about a rumor that Bill Clinton would not be allowed to speak, which upset her greatly. Once again, feminism did not seem an issue. As the decibels rose, it was unclear what was. I wished them a good day and they walked off to look for an Applebee’s.
All night I laid awake, trying to come up with an acronym that would spell out PUTA instead of PUMA (and I’m thinking of giving a prize for the best reader suggestion–probably my John McCain condom, if I ever find it).
Today, on the shuttle to the Pepsi Center, I met an actual, somewhat sane and articulate PUMA delegate to the convention; a Latina Doctor from Florida, but raised in Greenpoint (I avoided a fight by holding my tongue when she insisted Lorimer and Meserole was Williamsburg); she had served as a volunteer to campaign for Clinton in nine different states, a human personification of a traveling pants suit.
Surely, if anyone had the right to be with their woman until the last dog died, it was this MD. She was resigned and disappointed that Hillary had not fought on further. I told her that, in New York, it was generally considered a good idea for politicians to adjust to changing realities.
She nodded, but then regained energy.
She has angry, she was pointed; her grievances would not be healed, even with years of Freudian analysis. She was the only PUMA I’d met among the dozens of delegates I’d talked and drank and rode the rails with.
And yet
“Yeah, I voting for Obama, but for only one reason.
She told me to.”
So, outside of the Tin Hat Brigade, the only PUMA I found was voting for Obama–and that was before Hillary’s speech.
Upon all evidence, PUMAs are an endangered species near extinction. It’s time the media consigned this story to the bone yard at the Museum of Natural Political History.