not to be outdone, and their schedule promised an array of thernphysically, mentally, and morally impaired: the Brady BillrnBunch, a quadriplegic Superman, Jesse Jackson, Hillary thernCommodities Whiz, and Senator Carol Moseley-Braun, recentlvrnback from an unauthorized trip to Nigeria, where shernsaid she was consoling the dictator’s wife for the loss of a child.rnConsolation could be a big business in Nigeria, where the leaderrnhas murdered thousands of his political opponents. It is, ofrncourse, only an accident that Carol’s boyfriend and advisor hasrnbeen a lobbyist for Nigeria. Like Jesse Jackson, the Senate’s firstrnblack female has apparently never heard of the Logan Act.rnIn general, though, only the black delegates seemed normal.rnPerhaps it had something to do with the entertainment. As Irnwatched the moon-faced white males and their fat wives swayingrnto the Macarena and twitching spasmodically to a group ofrngospel rappers, it was like a mass dramatic try-out—thousandsrnof untalented amateurs doing their best to impersonate StevernMartin in The jerk.rnI was hoping against all hope for a better show from thernDemocrats, but it is too much to expect that they would repeatrntheir Chicago performance of 1968. The best parts of the televisionrncoverage were the tributes to the 68’ers, solemnly assuringrnjournalists that they had changed things. Only DavidrnDellinger had the guts to say that in 1968 international businessrnruled the world, and they were still running things in 1996.rnClorious it was to be alive in 1968, watching the crazies collidernwith the con-artists at the last good political convention, coveredrnby a set of journalists who might just as well have beenrndemonstrators or delegates: Norman Mailer was there playingrnthe journalist; William Buckley and Gore Vidal had their famousrncat fight; William Burroughs tape-recorded the convention,rn”exterminated” (i.e., randomly cut and spliced) the tape,rnand played it back, hoping to alter the delegates’ consciousnessrn—a perfect parallel for the conservatives’ platform maneuveringrnat the ’92 and ’96 GOP conventions.rnIn 1968, the crazies were more original, and the pols morernsubstantial. In 1996 Hubert Horatio Humphrey would towerrnover the Democratic Convention like a moral and intellectualrngiant. We are pygmies standing on the shoulders of pygmies,rnunable to see anything above our ancestors’ privates.rnI was asked by a network news show if I would be willing torncomment on the political rhetoric both of the DemocraticrnConvention and more generally of the campaign. I tentativelyrnagreed and repented as soon as I put down the receiver. Luckily,rnthe program eventually fell through. What could I havernsaid? There was no rhetoric at either convention, except in thernsense that both parties have made self-government a rhetoricalrnquestion in the United States. If the orator, as defined byrnQuintilian, is “a good man skilled in speaking,” our politicalrnleaders fail on both counts.rnLet us pass over in silence any claims to virtue put forward byrnthe well-paid supporters of both candidates and concentraternon the speechifying. President Clinton’s idea of a refutationrnis to reduce his opponents’ arguments to a string of imbecilicrncliches—”There are those who say we should send ourrnsenior citizens out onto the ice floes to die from starvation andrnexposure”—before solemnly pronouncing, in the accents of arnfirst grade teacher correcting a spelling test, “This is wrong.”rnSenator Dole, despite his genius for the one-line put-down, hasrnperfected a kind of Kansas dyslexia that made him the envy ofrnGeorge Bush—himself a master of incoherence.rnOne of the Podhoretzes, in describing the Bob Dole-MarkrnHelprin acceptance speech, used words like “sublime” andrn”luminous.” To my ears it was the rhetorical equivalent of arnWyndham Hill album: a formless prettiness on the surfacernwith nothing underneath—a sugareoated M&M with a hollowrncenter.rnThere is no point, either, in attacking the matter of politicalrnspeeches, since both President Clinton and Senator Dole arernmere actors, reciting—often without full comprehension—therntexts their handlers have created for them. Bob Woodward, inrnThe Choice, describes the dismay of Bob Dole’s aides, everyrntime the Senator begins to depart from the prepared remarks.rnThe really strange part of this is not the supine compliance ofrnmen who want to “lead the free world” but the delusions of thernhandlers and consultants who seriously believe that they haverncrafted little masterpieces of persuasion that can strategicallyrnposition their candidate to have the broadest appeal without offendingrnany possible group.rnWe are stupid, but not perhaps in the way they think. I haverntalked to marketing experts from time to time who like torntake credit for the success of products they have promoted.rnThere are, of course, “geniuses” who can create televisionrncommercials (e.g.. Burger King’s Soviet beauty pageant) thatrnare far wittier than any comedy show. For the most part, however,rnmarketing really comes down to getting the product namernon the air over and over and over. One of the most effectiverncommercials in the history of television was the ancient Anacinrnspot with a clanking hammer in the brain. Anyone who has thernmoney and the time can ultimately sell enough Bayer aspirin orrnBig Macs to make a profit, and if Mr. Clinton is the quintessentialrnBig Mac (fat, insipid, vulgar). Bob Dole’s candidacy is basedrnon the same principle as an ad campaign for a product that isrnexactly like the generic alternative except for the brand namernand higher price. What the pain-reliever doctors (of philosophy)rnrecommend most is socialism, and it does not matter arngreat deal whether the label reads Democrat or Republican.rnWithout product recognition (and the money spent to guaranteernit), there is scarcely a Democrat or Republican who couldrnget elected to office.rnThe er-^ least we can expect from a politician is that he writernhis own speeches. I do not mean that he should not have researchersrnand advisors to assist him on technical points, but thatrnhe, not the handlers, should be in charge of basic policy, thatrnhe, not the speechwriters, should be responsible for the wordsrnhe uses. In Hollywood they call it “creative control.” WhenrnMari Will put a speech on Hollywood decadence into BobrnDole’s mouth, the candidate ended up passing judgment onrnfilms he had never seen, expressing ideas that had never occurredrnto him, using words that had passed from teleprompterrnto microphone without passing through his brain. Elect MarirnWill, if you want a “famil)- values” President, because SenatorrnDole does not know what she is talking about.rnI should necr presume to advise anyone on whom to voternfor, but there arc several obvious categories of politicians thatrnshould be rejected out of hand. Apart from men who do notrnthink their own thoughts and speak their own words, there arernpoliticians who do not stand by the interest groups and constituentsrnwho elected them. Politicians are caught in a bind,rnwhether to carry out the wishes of the voters who elected themrnor cater to the needs of the special interests who fund theirrncampaign. The code of the lobbyist was once explained to mcrnby a Marxist “oral historian” who asked me if there was any lib-rnNOVEMBER 1996/9rnrnrn