chaboard
04-14-2008, 05:46 PM
Hilariously lifted from http://mrsensible.com/ :
BY MEGAN ESTES
Crazy McTrainIn the annals of campaign lore, it will forever be known as Grannygate.
It was supposed to be a fundraising boon - maybe even a PR boon, a tongue-in-cheek tour de force - for the McCain campaign, but it turned out to be an outrageous comedy of errors.
To put it mildly, Republicans have struggled to raise cash in this election cycle. So after watching Hillary Clinton raise $2.5 million in one night last week thanks to an Elton John concert, you couldn’t help but feel that the McCain campaign was growing even more self-conscious about their April 11 fundraiser with Pat Boone.
Boone rose to fame in the 1950s singing pop fare and safe-for-suburbia versions of down-and-dirty Elvis Presley and Little Richard tunes. Unlike some other singers of the period, his appeal rarely crosses generational lines. In other words, meeting a Pat Boone fan under the age of 60 is as common as meeting someone who still hopes that Michael Dukakis will make a successful run for the presidency.
When the Boone fundraiser was initially booked in February, it was set for the Sound Factory in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., a 500-capacity club that caters to a younger audience.
But a lack of demand for tickets required a change of venue. So on Saturday evening Sen. McCain and Pat Boone both arrived at the Forty Palms Retirement Community in Fort Lauderdale. A crabby McCain greeted an elderly audience of about 100.
“You know, it takes a special kind of crowd to make me feel young,” said the presumptive Republican nominee. “Even in the Senate I feel ancient. A show of hands: How many people here remember what they had for breakfast this morning?”
About 20 confused, sour-looking seniors raised their hands apprehensively.
“Who here is for assisted suicide? A show of hands: Who would sign up right now?” McCain asked jokingly. “If I get enough hands I’ll try to get some legislation on it.”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
“Some of the younger volunteers here started playing Pat Boone’s ‘No More Mr. Nice Guy’ album,” explained Alejandro Ferrer, manager of McCain’s Miami office. “It’s that album he did about 10 years ago where he did big band versions of classic rock and metal tunes. Someone got the idea to ask him to do a fundraiser for the campaign and play those tunes, but instead of a big band, have a real metal band. Much to our surprise, he agreed to do it.”
Pat Boone: Tickets went on sale Feb. 8 for a minimum donation of $99. When March 18 rolled around and only 20 tickets were sold to buyers whose average age was 68, the campaign changed plans.
Rather than attempting to remarket the event at this late date, Ferrer cancelled the Sound Factory booking and reserved Forty Palms’ 160-capacity dining room. The minimum donation was dropped to $39.
Boone’s management was to be told to scrap the all-metal set in favor of the crooner’s hits. Ferrer delegated that task to an unpaid volunteer.
Here’s where things went from bad to worse: the volunteer in Miami never got in touch with Boone’s management about the change in plans.
“It slipped through the cracks,” explains Ferrer. “This volunteer was very dependable but overburdened.” Boone got word of the venue change, but that’s it.
So when Boone and his band took the stage at Forty Palms, no one - the campaign, the candidate, and certainly not the audience - was ready for what came next.
Pat Boone took the stage clad in a black leather suit with a four-piece rock band that looked like Metallica circa 1991. They launched into Van Halen’s “Panama” and the place went crazy.
Seniors were covering their ears, stomping their feet, gnashing their dentures, and burying their heads in their hands. The sound was deafening. The song lasted for eight interminable minutes thanks to two extended guitar solos. An audible groan was heard when the song was over.
“I want to thank everyone for coming out,” said Boone. “I realize that may have been too loud for some folks, so I’m going to ask these guys to turn it down quite a bit. We apologize if that bothered anyone, but the McCain campaign has asked us to play a different type of music tonight.”
“Play ‘Ain’t That a Shame,’” said one disgruntled audience member.
“Play ‘April Love,’” demanded another.
After that opened a floodgate of requests from a much earlier era, Boone explained that he wanted to show them what young people were listening to today (”today” meaning 15 to 40 years ago).
With that, the band launched into Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train.” As on the previous number, Boone and his band sounded like Black Sabbath with Perry Como singing lead.
It was truly a surreal experience, made more so by the increasingly uncomfortable reactions of the audience. The band was still far too loud. Several people began to leave.
Boone again asked the band to turn down the volume, and they played a much softer tune, Jimi Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary.” This seemed to appease the crowd until the next song, Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.”
At that moment, all hell broke loose. People began throwing things: cups, food scraps, silverware, even a set of dentures. McCain’s security team surged forward and escorted the band out of the room.
Neither McCain nor Boone won themselves any new fans.
“I’m a life-long Republican, but after that fiasco, I’d vote for a Castro over John McCain,” said Forty Palms resident Lena Bader.
“I came for Pat Boone, not McCain,” said fellow resident Bellina Bellucci. “To me, this is just typical of the Republicans. Everywhere they go, they create chaos. Our dining hall was like the streets of Baghdad! They even make the beautiful music of Pat Boone sound like the drums of war. It was horrible!”
To add insult to injury, what was supposed to be a $100,000 event raised only $6,000. The Republican fundraising and PR deficit is rising by the hour.
BY MEGAN ESTES
Crazy McTrainIn the annals of campaign lore, it will forever be known as Grannygate.
It was supposed to be a fundraising boon - maybe even a PR boon, a tongue-in-cheek tour de force - for the McCain campaign, but it turned out to be an outrageous comedy of errors.
To put it mildly, Republicans have struggled to raise cash in this election cycle. So after watching Hillary Clinton raise $2.5 million in one night last week thanks to an Elton John concert, you couldn’t help but feel that the McCain campaign was growing even more self-conscious about their April 11 fundraiser with Pat Boone.
Boone rose to fame in the 1950s singing pop fare and safe-for-suburbia versions of down-and-dirty Elvis Presley and Little Richard tunes. Unlike some other singers of the period, his appeal rarely crosses generational lines. In other words, meeting a Pat Boone fan under the age of 60 is as common as meeting someone who still hopes that Michael Dukakis will make a successful run for the presidency.
When the Boone fundraiser was initially booked in February, it was set for the Sound Factory in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., a 500-capacity club that caters to a younger audience.
But a lack of demand for tickets required a change of venue. So on Saturday evening Sen. McCain and Pat Boone both arrived at the Forty Palms Retirement Community in Fort Lauderdale. A crabby McCain greeted an elderly audience of about 100.
“You know, it takes a special kind of crowd to make me feel young,” said the presumptive Republican nominee. “Even in the Senate I feel ancient. A show of hands: How many people here remember what they had for breakfast this morning?”
About 20 confused, sour-looking seniors raised their hands apprehensively.
“Who here is for assisted suicide? A show of hands: Who would sign up right now?” McCain asked jokingly. “If I get enough hands I’ll try to get some legislation on it.”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
“Some of the younger volunteers here started playing Pat Boone’s ‘No More Mr. Nice Guy’ album,” explained Alejandro Ferrer, manager of McCain’s Miami office. “It’s that album he did about 10 years ago where he did big band versions of classic rock and metal tunes. Someone got the idea to ask him to do a fundraiser for the campaign and play those tunes, but instead of a big band, have a real metal band. Much to our surprise, he agreed to do it.”
Pat Boone: Tickets went on sale Feb. 8 for a minimum donation of $99. When March 18 rolled around and only 20 tickets were sold to buyers whose average age was 68, the campaign changed plans.
Rather than attempting to remarket the event at this late date, Ferrer cancelled the Sound Factory booking and reserved Forty Palms’ 160-capacity dining room. The minimum donation was dropped to $39.
Boone’s management was to be told to scrap the all-metal set in favor of the crooner’s hits. Ferrer delegated that task to an unpaid volunteer.
Here’s where things went from bad to worse: the volunteer in Miami never got in touch with Boone’s management about the change in plans.
“It slipped through the cracks,” explains Ferrer. “This volunteer was very dependable but overburdened.” Boone got word of the venue change, but that’s it.
So when Boone and his band took the stage at Forty Palms, no one - the campaign, the candidate, and certainly not the audience - was ready for what came next.
Pat Boone took the stage clad in a black leather suit with a four-piece rock band that looked like Metallica circa 1991. They launched into Van Halen’s “Panama” and the place went crazy.
Seniors were covering their ears, stomping their feet, gnashing their dentures, and burying their heads in their hands. The sound was deafening. The song lasted for eight interminable minutes thanks to two extended guitar solos. An audible groan was heard when the song was over.
“I want to thank everyone for coming out,” said Boone. “I realize that may have been too loud for some folks, so I’m going to ask these guys to turn it down quite a bit. We apologize if that bothered anyone, but the McCain campaign has asked us to play a different type of music tonight.”
“Play ‘Ain’t That a Shame,’” said one disgruntled audience member.
“Play ‘April Love,’” demanded another.
After that opened a floodgate of requests from a much earlier era, Boone explained that he wanted to show them what young people were listening to today (”today” meaning 15 to 40 years ago).
With that, the band launched into Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train.” As on the previous number, Boone and his band sounded like Black Sabbath with Perry Como singing lead.
It was truly a surreal experience, made more so by the increasingly uncomfortable reactions of the audience. The band was still far too loud. Several people began to leave.
Boone again asked the band to turn down the volume, and they played a much softer tune, Jimi Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary.” This seemed to appease the crowd until the next song, Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.”
At that moment, all hell broke loose. People began throwing things: cups, food scraps, silverware, even a set of dentures. McCain’s security team surged forward and escorted the band out of the room.
Neither McCain nor Boone won themselves any new fans.
“I’m a life-long Republican, but after that fiasco, I’d vote for a Castro over John McCain,” said Forty Palms resident Lena Bader.
“I came for Pat Boone, not McCain,” said fellow resident Bellina Bellucci. “To me, this is just typical of the Republicans. Everywhere they go, they create chaos. Our dining hall was like the streets of Baghdad! They even make the beautiful music of Pat Boone sound like the drums of war. It was horrible!”
To add insult to injury, what was supposed to be a $100,000 event raised only $6,000. The Republican fundraising and PR deficit is rising by the hour.