The daily digest of Twin Cities culture | Secrets of the City

Related Content

• Eight Crazy Nights: A Political Miniseries
• Gwar Gets Political
• Calling For Mr. Franken
• Signed, Sealed, and Delivered
• Inside the Press Area

"I feel a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced."

Obi-Wan might as well have been talking about last night's call by Hillary Clinton to nominate Barack Obama by acclamation. Even as cheers rang throughout the assembled DNC crowd, through the MPR broadcast it was easy to hear the anguished chorus of PUMAs and die-hard Clinton fans crying out as their personal Alderaan exploded before their eyes.

Of course, it was too much for the Democratic party to ever expect Obama's nomination to be accepted without rancor or dissention in the ranks. Ever since famed blogger John Scalzi revealed that Barack Obama does not, in fact, fart cinnamon-scented rainbows, Democratic officials and party members have realized how deeply divisive the last year has been for the party. And without the aforementioned sweetly-scented intestinal emissions, Democrats face a serious battle to return to the days when the party was united under Bill Clinton's banner of Internet IPOs, kittens and abortions for all. For, if nothing else, one lesson they can take away from Star Wars, not to mention the last seven years in Afghanistan and Iraq, is that regime change is a cast-iron bitch.

Make no mistake, last night's speech by Bill Clinton was an abdication of power. For nearly two decades the Clintons have been to first Democratic family, with all the influence, fundraising clout and nubile interns such a position has to offer. Last night was Bill's last dance. You could hear it in his voice as he reveled in the cheers of the assembled left-leaning masses yearning once more for the feather soft caress of the elder statesman to set their loins aquiver with his nimble tongue and folksy charm. Even as Bill cajoled the crowd into silence, you could tell he knew this time on the podium would be his last brush with the reverence accorded to a liberal savior. He may never again be able to coerce a young woman into inserting phallic tobacco products in inappropriate orifices, so any maudlin thoughts on his part are perfectly understandable.

So as his speech began, making us all pine for the heady days when the Internet was a eldritch tube that channeled the unspeakable power of that which came before - making imaginary money and not just a masturbatory tool for douchebags, hatemongers and hormonally confused tweens, it wasn't a surprise that much of it focused on his own accomplishments. But through the ego-stroking and fond reminiscences of economic booms, cordial relations with foreign powers, and perjured testimony came reassurances of Obama's talent and capabilities - his readiness to lead and his preparedness to bring change and puppies to the hallowed halls of Capitol Hill.

And his willingness to make those statements with his wife's most ardent supporters just a few feet away still railing against this "perversion of democracy," calling for recounts, and demanding their hymens be returned to them, makes it all the more impressive. Whether he receives a cabinet position in the event of an Obama win or not, he closed the door on his own era. Few men can lay claim to that. Now if only he could alter time, speed up the election, or teleport us to England, where campaigns only last approximately four weeks, his place in history would be assured.