Grave Disappointment: The Unfortunate Meeting with Richard Blumenthal

"Hi, I'm Dick Blumenthal. I sue things."

By Peter W. Gacek


The whole affair commenced the only way it could have.  Justin Kloczko, all-around nice guy, picked me up for a hopeful morning of debauchery and local politics at the Park Road parade in West Hartford.

"We need to get two black coffees."

My mind, still dark from a previous night of beer-swilling nonsense, was unable or unwilling to understand. However, we arrived at a local Dunkin' Donuts, where Justin proceeded to pull out a bottle of Bailey's as big as his head, and I understood immediately. Surviving the morning depended on our ability to overindulge and not to take this too seriously. We were two committed hacks ready to fire a few honest and possibly bastardized questions at Linda McMahon or anyone of her stature willing to talk.

We reached our destination early with time to give the place a decent run through. The scene was West Hartford's Park Road parade, a celebration of West Hartford having more money than any other town in the area.  Aside from it being like any other horrific display of floats, balloons, and red-white-and-blue confetti, its purpose was to provide an opportunity to catch a communal freak show of local politics, including the U.S. Senatorial candidates. So as we arrived, tainted coffees in hand, we parked and were ready to begin the hunt.

It was a sad state of affairs, things just barely beginning and no sign of anything coming together. I considered what we were up against and asked myself: Will Linda bother? What sort of time do we have with her? Why am I here?


Either way we began our walk in search of answers. We set out, scouting a possible place that might seem like the setup for the Republican Party. Richard Patrissi, president of the Park Road Association, had passed us a few times on the deserted road, strapped to a golf cart. Mr. Patrissi had alerted Justin to Linda's possible appearance at the parade earlier in the week. We remained skeptical and began to compose some questions for her opponent Richard Blumenthal, who was to make his usual appearance. Trying not to pose questions that would make the sham of a candidate flee under pressure to his aides, we prepared ourselves another coffee and Bailey's. After a few walks up and down the block, and inquiries to the poor bastards with clipboards, we finally got a word in with Mr. Patrissi, who told us Linda had canceled. 

In his words, he was supremely "pissed off" at the no-show.  Linda must have been too busy, we imagined, with her son in law the pro-wrestler, HHH's appearance in Fairfield. It was time to change gears, compile new questions. We had suffered a loss, and ultimately it took the wind out of our sails, but it wouldn't take us out, not yet. We still had some hope; we were certain Dick Blumenthal would keep his word and show up for the event.

A beer was in order.

We made our way to Plan B and downed a quick pre-noon PBR. The parade had started and it was terribly apparent that there were more dressed up freaks in the parade than actually watching it. One specific cry from the sideline, "Yeah Dick! Sue AT&T!" told us it was time to follow the momentum of the parade, where Dick, among others, would eventually be emptying out.

We made a quick exit to the sidewalk and began to stalk our target. Dick, with his pants up to his shoulders, was slowly making his feeble way through the parade. He waved to nobody, mouthed voiceless pleasantries, and continued to jet his frail arm into the fall breeze, waving like a child pageant contestant. Dick Blumenthal is a Crispin Glover look-alike, seems like he hasn't had a sandwich in a year, and, up close, appears to be the victim of a failed facelift procedure. We began to pick up our stride a little only to be stopped by a blue eyed and comely Larson staffer, who recognized my colleague. She and Justin exchanged a quick chat and contact information. Watching this, I knew Justin's intentions were less than political and he began to grin. I thought to myself, 'where did this amount of casual bullshitting fit in?' Was her interest just a terrible feigned one because Justin was attached to a press pass? Or, in Justin's best interest, one that is a general one of people trying to make an honest connection? One could not tell a suave political move from a sloppy come-on in this terrible mess of confusion.

We continued down the route, watching a terrifying spectacle of horrid bands and a candidate who looked like the wind may knock him over at any minute.  This noisy scene was no place to get a decent recording in, but we soldiered on. Half a mile up the road we had found the head of the snake. We crossed the street and staked out for a chance at catching Dick for an interview. We remained patient in our approach and watched the small circus of supporters hunting for photo opportunities. I was approached by a blonde square with glasses looking for directions. I gave him the means to make a clean escape from this zoo. Meanwhile my colleague was starting to make some casual conversation with John Larson while a tracker was filming Dick's every interaction not five feet away.

(For those of you who don't know what a tracker is, it's a term for a cretin who gets paid by an opposing candidacy to film the opponent. A tracker waits like a dog for scraps to capture any sort of slip up, or weapon they can bring back, in this case, to Linda McMahon's headquarters.)

John Larson, CT's incumbent Congressman, didn't have to commit too much in this election period, except providing support to other Democratic candidates. On this weekend, his run for re-election appeared to be in the bag, he could enjoy the ride... still he was there and although he wasn't our focus, not now, we had a quick chat.

Justin asked if Larson was worried about the state of things with this race, and Larson, like a champ, said he wasn't at all. I soon introduced myself and the topic went quickly into negative advertising.

"I’ve never run negative ads,” Larson said, somewhat defensively. “The atmosphere is so saturated, so poisoned. What I think the problem is that people aren’t looking through the informed citizen’s point of view. They’re looking to incite negativity."

Justin retorted: “Why do you think people respond to negative ads?”

"They work unfortunately.  I've never run a negative ad, but I've responded to them,” Larson said.

The whole parade affair behind us got louder, and it was hard to get everything in. Larson said he was looking forward to the debates with his fellow candidates in West Hartford, Republican Ann Brickley and Green Party candidate Ken Krayeske. I realized two things about Larson. First, it is understandable why John Larson has been a successful congressman with little competition. He is like an older regular at a bar you frequent. He is always there, recognizes you, and will talk the shit out of your ear. Secondly, which became painfully apparent is as we talked, Larson slowly moved his body in front of the tracker standing opposite of him, completely eclipsing the view of Blumenthal, presumably out of Democratic solidarity. This technique lasted for only a moment before tracker became frustrated and moved around us to get his shot.

We talked a bit of sports. He likes the prospect of Shaq joining the Celtics. I remarked how we need a good season to make of for the disillusionment of the Sox season. He put his hand up with disgust and muttered about Matsuzaka. While this conversation was casual and easy it wasn't what we were after. We sort of dispersed and Justin began to ask the tracker questions to get a rise out of him. "How much do they pay you to do this?" Justin asked, to which the unarmed man responded, "enough." Justin tried for a name, number, get a card but the bastard wouldn't budge, his eyes barely lifting off the screen. This was becoming too much of a distraction and my patience was running dangerously low.

The blonde square (and direction-seeker from earlier) had arrived back in the scene and began to talk with Justin. Turns out he was one, Jeff Long, Special Assistant to the candidate Richard Blumenthal. He shook my hand again and asked if we knew each other.  We played dumb and I told him I was an independent voter who had no idea which way I'd be voting (mimicking the confused CT demographic). As well, I shamelessly plugged the Debaser so as to make my intentions a bit more obvious. He asked about Justin's credentials as well and they exchanged business cards. Mr. Long said we would get our chance soon and we waited and spat some more casual bullshit in meantime.

Our chance with Blumenthal came. The frail, once beloved man-child was slowly approaching us and Justin took the lead on the approach. We knew time was going to be short and we couldn't waste time waiting for him to slink over on his own.


Blumenthal: Good afternoon. How are ya? Good to be here.

Justin threw him a preliminary puff question, about whether he was enjoying the parade and inquired if he came every year.

Blumenthal: I try to come every year. This, ugh, ya know, ugh, is a beautiful day. This has a community feel to it. A feeling of togetherness.

(Blumenthal then turned to wave some more at a passing float of senile musicians who couldn't be bothered to wave back to the brittle Democratic candidate. Justin looks visibly annoyed)

Kloczko: I saw your ad this morning. How do you think the campaign has gone for you?

Blumenthal: Ugh, you know. I’m very satisfied... (distracted and clapping daintily to the music.)

Kloczko: What do you think is the biggest difference between you and McMahon?

Blumenthal: You know, I have fought for people..." (Inaudible in the music of the parade)

Kloczko: To what do you attribute losing a 40-point lead in the polls? And what are Democrats going to do to toughen up and win the election?

Blumenthal: We said from the start, that this was going to be difficult...(yadda yadda loud noises yadda yadda)

Gacek: How do you feel about Linda not showing up today?

Blumenthal: I’m not going to comment on that.

Gacek: (A bit taken back) Aright, no? That’s fine, I’m just asking.

Blumenthal: Take care. (another wave to nobody)

That was it.  That was our brush with our accessible future leaders.  "No comment." Like most politicians the most he could provide was hallow babble that lead nowhere.  I gave the tracker a pat on the back and said, "Hope you get some good footage," and we made our way back to the car. Our plan was to head to Linda's campaign office next but we would eventually be disappointed and come up with nothing.

Events and candidates like these really make you feel burned out and depressed, but it sums up the coming election: we are presented with candidates who leave us feeling fatigued for the not too distant future. It's hard to face the reality that either of these creeps are going to represent us come November. Through this whole campaign in Connecticut (much like the rest of the country) I feel like we're in the back seat of a car, with child locks on, flying off a cliff.  Any two-party election ultimately comes up short on true representation of the people, but I find it especially easy to get cynical with freaks like Blumenthal or McMahon running around. We'll see what it all comes down to soon enough.

My prediction? Linda will take this thing because Richard doesn't have the money or, like most Democrats, the balls to capitalize against the shit storm of the Republican party. Regardless of which way this wave crashes, good luck.