In just a few short hours, that giant Blue zeppelin of liberal politics that has been slowly inflating over the past week, will at last rise into the sky, where it will remain until Thursday.

Banners have been unfurling, musicians and actors flown in, and a general whipping up of the public and the thousands of politically passionate tourists has ensued. It’s been quite the spectacle–an orgy, brought to you courtesy of the American taxpayer.

Fret not, though, if you’re not in Charlotte to witness this spectacle in person. The Convention is like a Honda Pilot–pretty easy to miss when you don’t own one, but everywhere you turn if you do. If you are even remotely interested in who will next take the wheel of this careening country in November, Convention-related propaganda is literally impossible to avoid.

From cable news to print, local to national media, reporters gorge themselves on the buffet that is the Convention, from the relevant to the semi-relevant to the outright absurd: was Romney’s speech good enough; what about the rest (though, I’ll admit, covering Clint’s speech was inherently absurd)? Is the backdrop appropriate? Did the city offer up all the  accoutrements necessary to throwing a good convention? (two subpoints here: one, keeping the media happy is vital to both party and city for obvious reasons, hence the scattered ancillary activities, media parties etc, all replete with open bars, to ensure the press stays adequately amused and buzzed; two, Charlotte has done a kick-ass job at this.)

The mutual interests at play at this Convention, as with any other convention, are obvious, if disturbing.

Obviously, host cities love hosting–their businesses and reputations get a boost (unless, of course, the city bungles really, really badly–like, for example, very publicly skull-crushing thousands of protesters and people who looked like protesters (read: black people and hippies)), like at that infamous 1968 convention in Chicago.

The media, too, in its ever more convoluted relationship with Big Party Politics, leeches off the increased attention surrounding such a high-profile meeting of politicos–though, as the linked article makes clear, this spike in views the media counts on may be on its way out.

And the candidates, as much as they may bitch and moan about the biased, “lamestream media,” knows that the media is the only thing keeping their tepid campaigns afloat. Media coverage is the biggest reason–perhaps at the exclusion of all others–that the convention even happens; complaints only set in once things go wrong (ie how only the losers make a big fuss over the media’s coverage).

In 2012, the conventions are a writ large embodiment of American politics. The inescapable coverage and commentary of the conventions–or, more specifically, the tip of the convention iceberg that is the podium the camera remains trained on starting on Tuesday–boost candidates’ profile and viewership ratings.
To everyone involved, from reporters to speakers, it is about maintaining a careful balance between human connection and careful script. It is about connecting with voters just enough that they’ll break out of their sober, cynical and apathetic perspective of their country’s politics just long enough to engage in the sick addictive calculus of going to the ballot in November–just long enough to get into the booth, after which they will realize that, once again, they’ve been had by a party puppet–hence the massive and growing voter dissatisfaction rates.

Even off-the-script remarks are in the script–the off-color joke, the confused chair stare-down–it’s all part of the massive undertaking of convincing voters year after year that, while this year’s presidential nominee may look, talk and act like the nominee of four years ago with different issues of the day, he is, in fact, a “maverick,” a “fiscal conservative,” a “hope and change” candidate.

The ritual must carry on though. So with the drums beating and the pitch becoming feverish, we once again begin the frantic lowering of the wool over our eyes, where it will remain until after the vote.