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Everyone seems to be saying that Red Sox fans won't know what to do with themselves now that their long wait is over. But I'm not so sure. I'm about to celebrate my own personal regnum with some Double Rainbow pumpkin ice cream, The Daily Show, and perhaps some Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain on the headphones. That should keep my mind as wet as the trees in the front yard.
Man, did I need that. First Eric played me and Greg the awesome new Eminem video that imagines an army of the black-hooded disenfranchised going to war against W at the ballot box. I've been watching it all day. Then Steven linked to footage -- poor quality, but more powerful as a consequence -- of Bruce Springsteen introducing John Kerry today at a huge rally in Madison, Wisconsin (attended, I'm told, by a certain former U of A undergrad whom we miss terribly around here). You should really check out both clips and more than once.
What strikes me again about Bruce is how beautifully he speaks within a tradition of American populist rhetoric. Just as he did when accepting the Oscar for "Streets of Philadelphia," speaking of transcending the "veil of differences" that divides us from our fellow human beings, Bruce manages here to condense the issues in this contentious to campaign into a few sentences that say everything that needs to be said.
I taught speeches by Abraham Lincoln in my classes this morning, focusing on his "State of the Union" address from December 1st, 1862 and the Gettysburg Address. They contain Lincoln's most eloquent and heart-stirring prose, a repository for subsequent speechwriters including people working for both Kerry and Bush. It's hard to measure up to Abe's standard. But Bruce comes awfully close. And when he kicks into the slow, acoustic version of "No Surrender" -- the first lines of which I quoted on my yearbook page, incidentally -- the words in the song give new force to the words in his speech and vice versa. I was blown away.
I can't tell you how delighted I am that artists like Mr. Springsteen and Mr. Mathers are spending all the political capital they've stored up. This is one time when acting like there's no tomorrow is the surest way to make sure there's a tomorrow.
What strikes me again about Bruce is how beautifully he speaks within a tradition of American populist rhetoric. Just as he did when accepting the Oscar for "Streets of Philadelphia," speaking of transcending the "veil of differences" that divides us from our fellow human beings, Bruce manages here to condense the issues in this contentious to campaign into a few sentences that say everything that needs to be said.
I taught speeches by Abraham Lincoln in my classes this morning, focusing on his "State of the Union" address from December 1st, 1862 and the Gettysburg Address. They contain Lincoln's most eloquent and heart-stirring prose, a repository for subsequent speechwriters including people working for both Kerry and Bush. It's hard to measure up to Abe's standard. But Bruce comes awfully close. And when he kicks into the slow, acoustic version of "No Surrender" -- the first lines of which I quoted on my yearbook page, incidentally -- the words in the song give new force to the words in his speech and vice versa. I was blown away.
I can't tell you how delighted I am that artists like Mr. Springsteen and Mr. Mathers are spending all the political capital they've stored up. This is one time when acting like there's no tomorrow is the surest way to make sure there's a tomorrow.
.