All Conventioned Out

“What do you mean, you’re all “conventioned out?” My 18 year old-self asks, raising an eyebrow and stretching, about to go on a run despite a nasty stress fracture in his right shin. “They only come once every four years….it’s your civic duty to watch them! And you learn so much!”

“Civic duty…yikes. Maybe you learn so much…but I’ve heard a lot of political talk since high school.” I counter, clutching my belly, which is approaching the size of Jabba The Hutt’s. “The biggest trick of politics is convincing you the new stuff is different than the old. You know, like the Who song.”

Younger Patrick scoffs, shaking his head. He winches in pain. “You sound lazy…both physically and intellectually. You look like a balloon. Did I mention that I’m eighteen?”

I groan in weariness, cradling my immense food baby. “You mention the fact you’re an adult every other sentence. Not watching the conventions isn’t laziness if you don’t learn anything. Plus, they will piss me off.”

“Piss you off?” He asks, his dumbfoundedness spreading all over his face like wildfire. “How?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child. This isn’t 2008 anymore.” I say, thinking of semi-sane times. “It’s a whole new rodeo now.”

“Whatever. Sounds like excuses to me.” The pacing, inexperienced me asks with incredulity, holding off the fracture’s bite. “What will you do instead?”

I hold up a book of The Witcher fantasy series. “Read this. I probably will learn more politics from it anyway. While being entertained and improving my vocabulary. Without getting pissed off.”

“I’m eighteen and I know that fiction literature is for children and teenagers.” Naive me lectures. “Fiction is to be grown out of.”

“Oh no, my younger self. You will find that it is you who are mistaken.” I retort, in my best Emperor Palpatine impression, wishing I could shock my belly to a normal weight with Force Lightning. “About a great many things, fiction among them. Along with stress fractures. Take a day off!”

“I’ll never get to state with days off!” The “I’m eighteen and I know it” Patrick says, walking back and forth, ignoring my warning. “Do I really lose my passion for politics in twelve years? I thought I would be Ken’s age before that happened.”

I chuckle with mirth. “I haven’t lost my passion and appreciation for what politics means, in action-when things get done. Conventions are not that. They are a presentation for the initiated, for the already converted. And the insane. Though they may be the same.”

“All conventioned out….” Mr. I’m Legal whistles, upping the pace of his walking. He stops, jerking his right leg forward. He opens and closes his mouth faster than a beaver on a deadline.

“I also learned to take rest days and listen to my body.” I say, wagging a finger.

“Pah!” The 18 year old me replies, still supremely confident in his abilities.

“Your over-confidence is your weakness.” I insist. “You’ll understand. Though it will take you awhile.”

“Your faith in your goblins and wizards is yours.” The recent high school graduate me says, trying some high knees. He falls to the ground, cursing. “Maybe you are right…..but could we watch just one speech?”

“I have a better idea.” I say, opening YouTube. “It’s shorter, funnier and maybe even more informative.”

“I’m all ears.” Mr. I’m Legal says. “You know…”

“You’re eighteen.” I finish, tempted to stamp on his shin. “Now shut up and listen.”

As the fictional convo between my current and past self suggests, I didn’t watch much of the 2020 Democratic and Republican National Conventions. Every time I mustered up the energy to try, I thought about what better things I could do. It sounds bad, but after everything that has happened and is happening politically, I needed a break.

As I referenced to my charismatic, confident and crazy younger self, there’s a different way of informing yourself about the Dumbocrat and Repuke crazy cult fests. You’ve probably heard of Schmoyoho, the YouTube channel. The four Gregory Brothers “Songify” current events, politicians and the like with an auto-tune like instrument.

Among their most popular playlists is “Autotune/Songify the News.” Here’s a playlist of some of their wonderful musical creations. Not surprisingly, Schmoyoho songified both conventions.

“Father, Father” humorously shows the intense influence President Trump has on the Republican Party, with highlights from former attorney and Senior Advisor Kimberly Guilifoyle’s fiery convention speech. “Do It For Cornpop” showcases former Vice President Biden’s funny ramblings as well as some impressive dance moves and a debate if Coldplay is in fact the best band in the world.

Many times after watching one of the Songify videos, I find myself researching the inspiration for the video, and am in a better mindset when I do so.

Of course I’m not suggesting that Songify the News completely replaces regular news consumption. What it does do is change the usually depressing, infuriating and incoherent political ramblings into something of joy.

With some fall sports receiving the headman’s ax, we might be exposed to more politics.

Why not let the Gregory brothers take you on their “cosmic dance party” this election season?

It might keep you sane.

It might make you happy.

It might make you a better citizen!