It was a scene out of
Chicago. Journalists tripped over each other to ask the most piercing "gotcha" question of the day -- a far cry from the polite parsing of phrases which characterized Bush Administration conferences (when they were held) or even the 'beaming parent' indulgence toward Barack Obama. Yes, today recalled another era, an era or suspender-wearin', muckrakin', long-cloaked reporters with their fedoras jauntily cocked to one side. It was a relic. A musical.
Except that unlike Billy Flynn, this Chicago sleaze wasn't able to convince the press corp that they 'both reached for the gun.' The governor came off as the same fluffy-coifed imp he's been this whole time. He even thanked the press for all the free publicity.
He then introduced Roland Burris as his nominee for Senate.
That was probably the most intriguing moment of all. Burris, with a little smile on his face, unfolded a sheet of paper and proceeded to read a rather generic statement thanking Illinois for the honor. He didn't mention the scandal or even the governor beyond thanking him.
It was kind of like watching someone give a toast at a party when they just sat in wet paint. No. Or some poor, adolescent boy whose body is changing. Except that the boy holds a book in front of his pants while doing the math problem on the blackboard. As I watched the live feed from CNN, I could just imagine all the anchors -- from Anderson Cooper to Campbell Brown to Wolf Blitzer -- looking at each other and mouthing "what The. Fuck?" I think it was a psychic channeling. Somehow, I could sense our nation's simultaneous gasp, this collective feeling of watching a car crash and not being able to not look. We had been stunned into a morbid silence.
And then it got even better.
Immediately after his statement Burris took questions, asking him to opine on the giant-ass elephant in the room. Did he have any opinion of the scandal? No? He was standing next to a volcanic eruption and had "no comment" on the lava? Gotcha.
It isn't even that Blagojevich fed Burris to the dogs. It's that he fed him to the dogs and then sat there humming the theme from "Diner." The best moment: After a particularly tough question regarding his financial ties to the governor, Burris glanced helplessly at Blago -- who then proceeded to shrug and say, "you're the senator!"
The chain of events continued to get even more unpredictable. Burris (in a move that seemed mysteriously premeditated) claimed the Congressman Bobby Rush had something to say and called him up from the audience. But Bobby Rush didn't make it to the stage for what seemed to be about twenty minutes. Maybe he missed the dress rehearsal.
Like the odd wrenching drama/screwball comedy binary championed by
50 First Dates, Rush's quiet dignity commanded silence. Rush, a former leader of SNCC and founder of the Black Panthers, is a literal chapter in the African-American history books. Unfortunately, his impassioned plea for Burris popped up in the middle of World's Zaniest Press Conferences. I mean, if politics had Sweeps Week, this would be the ultra-hyped dramatic arc which makes literally no sense at all. Like a very special episode of Friends where Rachel cuts herself.
This is going to be one hell of an Oliver Stone movie. Or the story could single-handedly revive Broadway.
Some choice lyrics from Chicago: "I'm gonna be a celebrity/ That means somebody everyone knows,/ They gonna recognize my eyes, my
hair/ my teeth, my boobs, my nose."
I think everyone can agree that Blagojevich is at least 1/5 of the way through that list.
I'm not a fan of French. I took it for four years, then flunked my college language placement exam badly enough that I had to start again at French 001.
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