The Republican National Convention was its usual clot of cloying, decrepit and tiresome swill. More money for the rich, less money for the poor, starving and homeless. More money for the overly bloated military-industrial complex (even Ron Paul knows this is bad), less money for college students and the elderly. It was the often repeated mantra of liberty and justice for all… who can afford it. Everyone else is SOL.
There was some buzz about the ‘surprise’ guest speaker, but I paid it little attention. I assumed that it would be yet another reactionary white male mired in weltschmerz or a carefully-crafted minority touting RNC propaganda as a cure-all for our freedom. So it was a great shock to me when the surprise guest speaker was The Man With No Name (instead of Rush Limbaugh, The Man With No Waistline).
His frazzled appearance was at odds with the typically polished demeanor we are used to seeing wrapped about a Hollywood legend. He seemed a bit disoriented and confused, every inch the doddering old man in the park or drunken uncle at Thanksgiving dinner. He seemed to come out of himself, though, and, without the teleprompter crutch most politicians cling to, Clint began to talk.
It was the most bewildering, disturbing and overtly insulting political speech I have seen in years.
How Mr. Eastwood, a world-class womanizer, was selected to speak at a Republican convention that had been endlessly preaching family values is beyond me. It would have been difficult to find someone less suited to talk about such things. His fame is entirely base upon playing characters who murder for money, revenge or fun. His twisted portrayal of manliness as entrenched in stone-age hatreds and violence is a standard which civilized society has worked tirelessly to leave behind. There is no redeeming value in his work, unless it is as a horrifying warning against that type of behavior.