“I don’t belong to an organized political party. I’m a Democrat.”

— Will Rogers

Papa Hemingway reported from the front in Spain during the Spanish Civil War, and he liberated the bar at the Ritz in Paris as the Germans were pulling out.

Ernie Pyle reported from Sicily and Normandy on D-Day.

Great journalists.

I am proud to join the ranks of my fellow correspondents, as I report on D-Day from Philadelphia, at the opening of the 2016 Democratic convention. I am a bit embarrassed to admit that I am far in back of the lines and out of range for even the heaviest fire, but I can feel the heat, even here in front of my 50-inch Sony flat screen.

It’s Monday, July 25, and I’m trying to catch up; so by the time you read this, the participants could be dead, drunk in the gutters or locked up in the Philadelphia jailhouse. Of course, by now you know how it turned out.

It’s relatively calm at this moment early in the morning as I sit watching the event. I may go for coffee.

Oh No! All hell just broke loose: DNC Chairwoman Debbie Wasserman-Shultz of Florida is the first casualty listed as a victim of friendly fire.

The inside dope:

Bernie claims that she was actively rigging the election in Hillary Clinton’s favor.

I may be wrong, but isn’t that what a DNC chairwoman is supposed to do?

Bernie is old, but clearly not too old to remember the Daley family of Chicago. You can Google that. Poor Bernie; he spent his honeymoon in Moscow (Russia, not Maine), and he thinks this is “rigged”?

But Debbie, being the good soldier she is, looked in her closet, found a sword and fell on it. It happens.

Here it comes: The mob is on its feet, fists in the air, spittle staining their “BERNIE” signs. I’ve never seen so many grown men wearing American flag sport jackets. I want one for my next daughter’s wedding.

Shouts of “NO TPP, NO TPP” (I’ve got to study that) along with “WikiLeaks!” and “Lock her up, Lock her up” can be heard from the lectern, clear down the hallways to the LGBT lounge and transgender restrooms.

Night falls and Michelle Obama strolls out onto stage like a runway model and rips up the house with the best speech so far, one that will go down in the history books, I guarantee.

“I wake up every morning in a house that was built by slaves.” That one, among all the great phrases, electrifies not only the house, but every house in America.

Things are looking better. I can hear whispers about changing rules and nominating Michelle.

Day Two: Gun violence theme night, and then the dreaded roll call, filled with tiny details about every state. Washington and Wisconsin folks will take bathroom breaks.

When “Americans abroad” is called, Bernie’s brother speaks. Bernie weeps. Touching.

Bubba Clinton, father of Chelsea, soon to be first gentleman? He will rock the house, and tell us for 20 minutes about how he met Hillary; 20 minutes that made many a little nervous. Meanwhile she sits in her hotel room sipping a martini with her fingers crossed.

Day Three: A new Murderer’s Row emerges: Biden, Kaine, Bloomberg? Which loads the bases and the Prince of Light, President Barack Obama, is up at bat. It promises to be a night to remember. Joe Biden leads off, and we hear shouts of “Run, Joe, Run.”

Sen. Tim Kaine arrives, and there is more background material: never losing an election, teaching kids in Honduras to weld and use saws. He speaks of his Jesuit education and faith. A Catholic priest stands up, beams and applauds, but then so do two Sikhs and a tattooed woman with an LGBT sign.

Kaine is like a kid who got everything he wanted on Christmas morning.

I haven’t heard this much Spanish since Sophia Vergara won her Screen Actors Guild award.

The last thing I heard before bed was that Donald Trump claims his remarks about asking Putin to hack Hillary’s emails, which even some Republicans think is near treason, was meant “sarcastically.” Imagine President Trump announcing that he’s thinking about nuking China, and then standing in the nuclear dust and the ruins of Trump Tower, claiming he was being sarcastic. That’s something to look forward to.

Day Four: Hillary will stroll out in blue and claim the crown. We’ll see that together. Maybe Kaine will follow with a mariachi band playing “Guantanamera”? Tim, no sombrero, por favor.

J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer.

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