Discord niela - shiva rea naked yoga
It wasn’t until 9 p.m., when Sarah Silverman inexplicably announced from the stage that “Bernie or Busters” were “ridiculous,” that a renewed chant of “Bernie, Bernie! Over the three hours that followed, all the way until Bernie Sanders managed to deliver a speech despite efforts by his supporters to filibuster a Clinton nomination via sustained cheering, and the convention was gaveled to a close for the night, basic peace prevailed. When the platform came up for a vote, the ayes had it without any more protest than some scattered no’s.
They played with the toys that tech companies were showing off at sponsored booths in the hallways, and asked who knew about the parties. Unity shattered before the Democratic National Convention could begin!A fight brewing, a convention divided, a Revolt on the Convention Floor!Maybe if he was a piece of shit with commitment issues and an ex he’s still “just friends with” I’d be into him?Maybe I deserve to be unhappy, in relationships that lead nowhere but to further disillusionment.When Elizabeth Warren emerged to deliver her keynote address, it took twenty or thirty seconds and a string of murmured ’s for one reporter to realize that the chanting from the rafter was the Massachusetts delegation shouting “We want Liz!
” According to one staffer who was in the room, this nervous disposition even reached the Democratic leadership, with Clinton’s floor manager telling both campaigns that Bernie had lost control of his people, and that some “gains” might be lost if they weren’t brought under control.
I feel like an asshole for the thoughts I have, but while I’m with this man who holds my hand and looks into my eyes adoringly, I notice that his laughter sounds stupid to me, that it makes me cringe when he hugs me when we’re asleep, the way his right eyelid folds, and that his ass is too flat.
And he doesn’t really make me laugh; our sense of humor is different.
Inside the hall, they barely caused an inconvenience.
ndeed, throughout Monday afternoon and night, it was not clear that most people inside of the Wells Fargo Center were aware that some kind of revolt was meant to be afoot.
And yet they have spent the day telling themselves that they are on the brink of some ugly, embarrassing disaster. Despite a convention where discontent barely snuck in—and despite the victory of the expected nominee, the likely retention of the presidency, and the defeat, for the moment, of insurgents threatening to turn the Democratic Party over to the proposition that the United States could achieve a social welfare state comparable to the rest of the industrialized world—there may still be some subterranean instinct that tells the present managers of the Democratic Party not to trust their evident success, that the world cannot go on like this forever.