Observations from a precinct convention

We're still waiting for your first-person accounts of your precinct convention, which we solicited yesterday, but so far, nothing.

OK, ok, who's got time to write these days? We understand.

So in lieu of our great idea, here's Slampo's experience at a Houston precinct convention.

A portion of his report:

The caucus ran smoothly until it didn’t. After the tally, the chair-gal, a comely ingénue with much stage presence but, as it turned out, a loose grasp on the rules, asked for a vote of unanimity on a resolution to do away with the caucus system, and it was loudly so moved before one wild-eyed nay-sayer could get his say in. He was royally pissed about that---he looked a little like the Unabomber, sans hoodie---and, hopping off the library table he’d been squatting upon, confronted the chair-gal in a most ungentlemanly manner: “I’m 71 years old and I’ve been to 18 caucuses,” he bellowed, literally getting up in the young woman’s face, “and I don’t need some 25 year old telling me what to do.” This elicited much hissing and razzing from the assembled and moved us to the loudly expressed opinion that the old crabapple was “fucked” and “a good example of what turns people off about the Democratic Party---like it’s an exclusive club for the insane” and other bon mots that drew approving nods from nearby fellow caucus goers.