Democratic Notional Convection

In the 1946 film A Matter of Life and Death, Raymond Massey’s character, Abraham Farlan, described as the first American killed by the British in the War of Independence, strides to the summit of his Heavenly rock to provide an other-worldly audience of slain servicemen and women, po-faced Quakers, and other assorted figures both ancient and modern with the information that, "A man can see further, sir, from the top of Boston State House, and see more worth seeing than from all the pyramids, turrets and steeples of all the places of the world."
Alas, it must be conceded that such a bountiful panorama may no longer be observed from the same location in our present age. Indeed, a short list of what Abraham Farlan would see today from the top of Boston State House includes the following: a shabby row of fast food chain restaurants featuring Burger King, Dunkin' Donuts, and Finagle A Bagel; chintzy discount jewelry vendors and tawdry fashion boutiques purveying clothes for the slovenly and sluttish; second hand Compact Disc stores broadcasting obnoxious music into the street at such disagreeable volume that the adjacent buildings are in danger of collapse due to the Howitzer-like bass vibrations; a number of consignment shoe shops whose shoddy wares are guaranteed to disintegrate in the space of a few months; several scattered and rickety pushcarts selling sugary lemonade, stale pretzels and slimy hot dogs; and within this polluted constellation of third rate shopping experiences, languishing beside the bird crap-splattered Brewer fountain and urine-stained subway entrances, Abraham Farlan could wander amongst the drunks, addicts, drop-outs and varities of hoodlum who sprawl across the park benches and collapse beneath the trees. Consequently, although Abraham could certainly see these horrible sights with his tearful eyes from that perch above Boston State House, let us hope he could not smell them, for we would not wish the poor man to die an agonizing death for a second time.
… However, because the Democratic National Convention looms on the city’s horizon this summer like a leprous and dying wildebeest - and since we have a Democratic Mayor with an eye on his political future and therefore a desire to impress his party comrades - it seems that Boston is actually making a desperate attempt to smarten itself up for a change: the iron railings alongside Storrow Drive have been painted a pleasing shade of green; sidewalks are being repaved and potholes filled; new trees and shrubberies are being planted; and so on; you know, small things here and threre.
But unfortunately I suppose no truly effective steps towards the complete beautification of our surroundings will be taken, such as …oh, I don’t know … let me see … the rapid expulsion of Ted Kennedy from the city limits, preferably by cannonade.
Of course that will never happen. And come July we must be accustomed to the sight of even more obese, disfigured, scruffy and disheveled Democratic delegates huffing and puffing up and down the streets, clad in their crunchy sandals with “Single Parent Dolphins Support Kerry 2004” badges festooned all over their Montana Gay Pride 1992 souvenir tee-shirts.
Of course, one imagines that the city’s electrical supply will run out this July, drained by the strenuous effort of keeping all that extra flabby flesh air-conditioned, but mostly from the Herculean task of ensuring that Senator Kennedy’s mini-bar remains operational.
I do hope Boston is prepared for the army of unwashed politicos that is about to invade. But I doubt it. Where is Abraham Farlan when his city needs him most?