Whoop (There it is) On the Road with the GOP by Brian Allnutt I first saw John McCain at the end of a long cold winter. I could feel the Republican Party dying and I wanted to break westward with some gone cats and find out what America was all about. The Wesleyan Republicans gave me the perfect opportunity. On Friday March third Imade the sixty minute trip west to Sacred Heart University for Senator McCain’s speech. I hitched myride with four beatific birds, three of whom can be called Republicans. With safety belts buckled and Britney Spears on the radio we set off for Bridgeport riding the wave of the New Republicanism. On the way down I tried to get a sense of what it feels like to be a Republican at Wesleyan. One Republican said that he thought it was a lot of fun and I got similar responses from the others. They didn’t feel discriminated against for being Republicans, but in the words of one Republican, “I don’t think close-minded is the word for it [Wesleyan]. I think it’s more hypocritical. They want a lot of different opinions as long as they’re not conservative.” They seemed to take pleasure in bucking the liberal norm present at Wesleyan. This attitude seems to cohere well with the renegade Republicanism, which evolved in the last couple decades of the twentieth century. This Republicanism, largely ushered in by Ronald Reagan although prefigured by Barry Goldwater, appealed to people who considered themselves to be outsiders (religious people, entrepreneurs, and host of weirdo groups like survivalists and gun nuts). The irony of the party of Dwight D. Eisenhower and Gerald Ford appealing to the fringes of society is tremendous, yet in spite of it Reagan was also very adept at welcoming traditionally democratic voters like Catholics into the Republican Party and appealing to moderate voters both Democrat and Republican. According to Kate Nattrass, the Republican behind the, McCain has a similar appeal; “He talks a lot about reforming the party… He draws a lot of support from independents and democrats, which is something I find really important in nominating a candidate.” However, one group whom McCain did not seem to draw support from was minorities. The first thing I noticed when I walked into the gym at Sacred Heart was how white it was. I’m talking more honkies than a Billy Joel concert. I only saw three African Americans there, two were security guards, and one was the sound technician. The second thing I noticed in the SHU gym was the Pro McCain posters made by enthusiastic undergrads. They said things like, “Welcome to our McCain Majority” and “Break the Iron Triangle-Money, Lobbyists, Legislation.” But, my favorite poster read, “McCain Quiz: a) Rules b) Is new Pres. c) Rocks d) All of the above (circled).” Apparently the notion of “rocking” is very important to contemporary Republicans because while we were waiting for the Senator to arrive and eclectic array of music was blasted over the PA including: Pink Floyd, The Village People, and that booty-rap masterpiece “Whoop Der It Is.” The groovy tunes were complemented by trippy watercolor projections turning the event into one part day-glo happening, one part PTA meeting. There was plenty of time to take in all the music and cheesy lighting because McCain was nearly two hours late to the event. At one point a state senator got on the microphone to tell us that, “the Straight Talk Express (McCain’s bus) was caught in traffic,” “like a giant metaphor” I wanted him to add. Fortunately metaphors for McCain’s campaign weren’t in short supply on this evening, before the Senator’s arrival they had an obese woman sing The Star Spangled Banner. As soon as she started to sing the man next to me leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It’s over.” I spent the rest of my time waiting for John talking to the people around me. I met a gentlemen with a mullet who told me, “I’m only here to see McCain’s wife,” a sentiment reiterated by many males in attendance. He then went on to tell me I should cut my hair like him if I wanted to have any luck with the ladies, “You know, short on top, loooong in back.” I also met a man of about thirty who told me about how he and his frat-brothers threw a “Cuomo Is A Homo” party when they raised the drinking age in New York. To McCain’s credit, most of the people whom I spoke with told me they were either Democrats, Independents, or had just recently become Republicans. Finally, McCain arrived and they killed the up tempo music and funky light show. It was a relief to hear a professional politician speak after listening to a series of state representatives and SHU student government sub-phubas. He first did an obvious pitch for his book Faith of my Fathers and gave the audience a silicon smile that was met with laughter and applause. Then he thanked his wife, which was met with even more applause. (I had a hard time understanding this because there seems to be something very suspicious about Mrs. McCain. She never stopped smiling for the whole forty minutes she was on stage with her husband. Furthermore, her features seemed to be elfin and plastic. I think she’s a robot.) McCain said a bunch of other stuff on stage, but nothing too specific or important. Like all good politicians, and many incompetent fathers, McCain seemed to have the gift for talking at length without saying anything at all. I went to the McCain rally expecting to disagree with many of the things McCain would say, but throughout his speech he never said anything specific enough to warrant my disapproval. For example he would say something like, “I think we should stop treating our men and women in the Armed Forces like second class citizens.” Then I would think to myself, “Yeah, I guess I agree with that, but I have no idea what in the hell he means. For all I know he could be planning on turning every U.S.O. into a brothel.” He made a lot of general statements about not giving in to special interest groups in the same vein as his comments about the Armed Forces. Yet, McCain spent much more time talking about the need for inclusivity and a New Republican Party than about any policy issue. He made a funny comment about a supporter in California who was carrying a sign that said, “Hippies for McCain.” I thought that was a good summation of the evening in that it didn’t make any sense at all. Let’s think about it for a second… Republicans and Booty Rap, Plastic, Robot, Trophy, Wives, Mulleted Style Consultants. What in the Hell is going on in this God-forsaken country? And now John McCain, the man who was more crafty than he was honest, has laid down in that wasteland of failed presidential candidates and the New Republican Party he promised us will never come to fruition. So in America John McCain elevated the stump speech to the level of art. It took me one short, sad, westward drive with four beat, beautiful, gone Republicans to realize that no where is aesthetic transcendence more readably attained than on the road with the GOP. In the twilight of the New Haven nighttime I think of John McCain, I even think of Old John McCain, the father we never understood, I think of John McCain.