We've witnessed these spectacles every fourth September, every four years. The volunteers stand handshake-dazed near their supervisors, seeing images of themselves in every direction. Staffers greet each other with comic cries and gestures of sodden collapse. In Denver there were vendors nearby when we ate breakfast. Stretch limos outfitted with powerful communications technology stalled in murderous crosstown traffic. Helicopters shine searchlights down at the buildings, the crowd. Chanted rhymes emerge like a collective tribal memory. Allegations are advanced concerning faked pregnancies. "This is one of those moments." There is a meet-and-greet with the guy from the Doobie Brothers.
A voice from the subconscious: Toyota Corola.
Here in Minneapolis, a woman with a clipboard, frazzled, efficient. She reads from a printout to a group of staffers a change in schedule from the coordinating committee: the station wagons arrive at noon. In the Free Speech Zone, a man dangles from a wire, the famous performance artist from New York. Everywhere, security: badges, metal detectors, small plastic cards with magnetic stripes. Police, silent in riot gear, truncheons like humming, efficient software. Someone says: "So she was technically never the actual Miss Alaska?"
Sólo tendrá gracia para los que han leído Don DeLillo. Pero os aseguró que es divertidísimo. Oh, es que me encanta la sátira que gastan los de The Onion: una sátira inteligente y nunca gratuita, a veces incluso respetuosa, o como mínimo, "de buen rollo".
(Quizás cuando haga la reseña del libro de DeLillo que estoy terminando, copie una cita de sus propias palabras y no una cita de una parodia de sus palabras hecha por otra persona. O quizás no.)
The Onion, junto con Cracked, es mi página de humor favorita. Si no existieran tendrían que inventarse.
1 comentario:
un placer leerte y pido la reseña prometida
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