I’ve covered politics for over 30 years. I’ve been a war correspondent in some of the most violent places on earth. I’ve seen everything. At least I thought I had. That was before I met the Bernie Sanders supporters.
What I saw from this week’s Nevada Democratic Party Convention was the death of democracy.
Violent Sanders supporters reacted with irrational hatred when they were told that, under party rules, their votes didn’t count. They screamed, they broke things, they stayed in the convention hall for several hours after security politely asked them to leave. All because their entitled candidate didn’t get a delegate or two.
I wasn’t there. Thank God I wasn’t there. Watching the stream on LiveJasmine, seeing Democracy itself falter, was frightening enough to make me call my dad Col. Dig Sr. to leave a voicemail letting him know that his boy is safe.
When these petulant children didn’t get their way, when the responsible Nevada Democratic chairwoman gaveled them out of order and assigned all delegates to Hillary, they reacted like animals. These little Ramsay Boltons tore up their seats, they set fires, they tied up tortured Hillary supporters. They engaged in depravities never seen outside of Salo.
These Mad Max-esque Bernie Bros care not for parliamentary procedure. They would sooner burn Robert’s Rules of Order than follow the sensible restrictions contained within. They support one thing, and one thing only: anarchy.
Like their leader, an angry and possibly gang-affiliated hand-waving old man, Bernie supporters want to destroy the very fabric of our nation. Today they reject a political party’s rules. Tomorrow, what? Do they deny the Electoral College, which correctly picks our Presidents? Do they reject our forward-looking military, which has used drone innovations to make winning wars both easier and more fun? Do they object to capitalism, the very economic system that manufactures the ballots that grant them the privilege of voting?
I’ve been a POW in Syria. I reported on the civil war that destroyed a country. I met the militias, I smelled the rubble, I saw the death camps.
This was worse than anything over there.
I thought about the Bernie supporters ruthlessly booing Senator Barbara Boxer, one of the most benevolent creatures on Earth. I thought about the man who picked up the chair and put it back down with zero respect to its original placement. I thought about my son and I burst into tears.
If they could boo respected members of the Nevada Democratic Party, they could do it to me. They could do it to any of us.
We’re just waiting for Bernie voters to accost us on the street, to call us on the phone, to appear in our Twitter mentions, threatening us with old standbys of my Twitter feed such as “fill my hole daddy,” “Actually you discount Bernie’s support among 35-44 and furthermore-,” and the always terrifying “Oh, c’mon!” There’s no functionality on the website where you could block or mute these people from talking to you, but that’s a whole other problem.
These people could go up to any of our children and pedantically argue about demographic shifts, call us old, or even shout “NO! BOO!” I refuse to be a victim.
From now on, I will respond to every horrifying death-crazed Bernie supporter with disarming bon-mots such as “feel the math” and will later try to implement a rolling eyes emoji once I can find one on my Blackberry. Evil prevails when good men do nothing. From now on, I will not run away from conflict. I used to physically hurl my phone into the couch cushions when faced with Bernie Militia confrontation.
From now on, I will obliterate them with logic until I break their lines and decimate their ranks.
Je Suis Carl.
Carl “The Dig” Diggler has covered national politics for 30 years, and is the author of “Think-ocracy: The Rise Of The Brainy Congressman”. Got a question for the Dig? E-mail him at [email protected] or Tweet to @carl_diggler. And check out his predictions at SixThirtyEight.
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