Liberals from the Lost Lagoon

WHEN the Democratic convention’s most popular speaker—Jesse Jackson—declared that George W. Bush “wants to give the surplus back to the richest 20 percent to buy more yachts,” our Ouija boards should have started to shake. When Maxine Waters acted as a kingmaker, declaring that vice-presidential nominee Joe Lieberman “knows what he has to say,” we should have loaded up on garlic and holy water. And when Lieberman actually fell into a trance and did her bidding, there was simply no doubt left: The Old Democratic Party had risen from the dead.

President Clinton, so often praised for leading politics in a “New Democrat” direction, no longer has much use for the Democratic party. In his convention speech, he was content to put the “me” in “messiah” and leave it there. As viewers saw him walk through the tunnels underneath the Staples Center like a drunken Shriner looking for the men’s room, the convention’s producers flashed across the bottom of the TV screen various statistics—22 million new jobs created, record homeownership, etc.—that could be associated with his presidency. Not since Elvis Presley leapt on stage in a karate gi to the tune of “Kung Fu Fighting” has there been a more self-indulgent entrance.

About the Author

Jonah Goldberg

Jonah Goldberg is a National Review contributing editor.

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WHEN the Democratic convention’s most popular speaker—Jesse Jackson—declared that George W. Bush “wants to give the surplus back to the richest 20 percent to buy more yachts,” our Ouija boards should have started to shake. When Maxine Waters acted as a kingmaker, declaring that vice-presidential nominee Joe Lieberman “knows what he has to say,” we should have loaded up on garlic and holy water. And when Lieberman actually fell into a trance and did her bidding, there was simply no doubt left: The Old Democratic Party had risen from the dead.

President Clinton, so often praised for leading politics in a “New Democrat” direction, no longer has much use for the Democratic party. In his convention speech, he was content to put the “me” in “messiah” and leave it there. As viewers saw him walk through the tunnels underneath the Staples Center like a drunken Shriner looking for the men’s room, the convention’s producers flashed across the bottom of the TV screen various statistics—22 million new jobs created, record homeownership, etc.—that could be associated with his presidency. Not since Elvis Presley leapt on stage in a karate gi to the tune of “Kung Fu Fighting” has there been a more self-indulgent entrance.