The dog days of July are upon us, and the traveling circus that is American politics are trolling the summer circuit.  The tent has been packed up in Cleveland, and the carnies and animal acts are on their way to Philadelphia.  The nation, as much as it has pressing worries, cannot take its eyes off the fantastical world of the circus and its farcical, somewhat foreboding characters.  After several decades of lousy and boring acts representing America, the citizens have turned toward a much more entertaining spectacle.  Unlike the fortnight of most circuses, this one, come November 8th, 2016, is scheduled like it or not for an extended, painful run.

In the past when the Republican circus has come to town, the more spectacular venues have typically been outside the tent.  The staid Republicans have attracted. like flies to a picnic, the more exotic carnival acts.  A motley crew of communists, race baiters, environmental globalists, and animal rights activists have typically coalesced into a street production designed to feed off the national audience tuned into the acts of the main tent. Violence, miserable hygiene,  police taunts, and the throwing of bodily fluids and worse have been part of the demanding side show..  For some reason, however,  this time the sideshow was intimidated by the main tent presence  in Cleveland of a larger than life circus act, and did little to disturb the event.  When in the presence of the real deal, I guess side shows lose their clout.

In the main tent in Cleveland, the strong man Trump ruled supreme.  His major feat of strength was the near miraculous taking over center stage of a party that in its heyday would have swept him aside like a 40 pound weakling.  This strong man, wearing the costume of a man of real heft to hide an oversold muscular persona and paunchy intellect, managed to steal the show.  The audience got a series of introductory acts that included a soap opera star, an extreme fighter and pretty much every family relation that could read a script.  But every strong man needs a foil,  and our strong man has found his in the Dastardly Ted Cruz character that exists, like the old Washington Generals, for a scheduled butt kicking.  Dastardly Ted tried to play it too cute by half, securing the role of defender of the ramparts while not endorsing the identified man of strength at his own circus.  Lifting a few weights of past shows like freedom, conscience, and respect for the Constitution, Cruz hoped to impress the audience.  But this audience got free tickets to enter from the reigning strong man,  and trump made sure their would be no alternative spotlight.  The red meat audience descended with boos and catcalls on schedule, thus saving all the oohs and aahs for Trump himself.

The strong man Trump then trained all spotlights upon himself on the final night.  Having already used cloud machines and strobe lights with a previous entrance, Trump was determined to show the audience that he could be a closing act as well.  Trump stood serenely before the audience both in the tent and watching from home, and, in the voice  of a carny barker,  described the feats of strength reserved for only the truly strong.  Terrorism would be defeated, and fast.  Law and Order would be restored, and fast.  Trade agreements that had been agreed to by weaker men would be thrown aside, and competitors would quiver and yield better deals once in the presence of a real strong man.  Fellow allies would pay their fair share to defend the world, or somebody was going to be sorry.   Immigrants, the right ones, would be welcomed in, but the wrong ones, oh, would they be sorry they were the wrong ones.  Elites would learn about the new power in town, and stop in their tracks their life of being the bully to the little guy – the bully in chief guaranteed it.  Jobs would rise. Debts would fall.  Enemies would surrender.  The crooks would face justice.  The ultimate feat of strength, achieving  agreement on who was the strongest of the strong in the first one hundred days.

One couldn’t tell if the audience, bludgeoned over 76 minutes, was entertained or bewildered.  No matter, they had gotten a free ticket, and that was entertainment enough.

Philadelphia now presents as the traveling show, and the bearded lady is the act to see.  The audience will stare, somewhat embarrassed that they are drawn to look and can not avert their eyes at such unpleasant exotica.  The bearded lady Clinton is a real carny act, living a life of victim status, while in real life being on the lam from the law for four decades.  Each time the law closes in, she changes her appearance and talks about events in the past as if they happened to someone else.  The democrat party activists, so used to carnival acts,  may be able to muster an audience, but applause is likely to be wanting.  When Clinton presents upon the final day of her convention expecting her due, it will not surprise in the least if the real show will be on the streets of Philadelphia, and the a half baked audience somnolently stares and wonders, how such an act managed to get into the center ring.

Nobody in the world wants to participate in a circus run by a has-been bearded lady, but is anybody ready to have the strong man take over, when it’s relatively clear, the one muscle he has never exercised is his intellectual muscle.  When the carnival closes and the show moves out of town, we will be left with having to decide between the two as to who will become leader of the most powerful country on earth.  It’s not a show certainly I would have hoped for, and one wonders if the rest of the world, dying on the vine, can survive either.  The greatest show on earth, it will definitely not be.