I'm not naming names — though I'm hoping someone will — of all the Minnesota-based bloggers who have received credentials to next month's Republican National Convention. News gathering prowess, perceptive analysis, coherent prose and balanced reporting seem not to matter in granting blogger access, though Ed Morrissey certainly approaches those standards.
So I'm pleased to announce that I have been granted access to the Republican National Convention for at least one session. It's a testament to my even-handedness and longstanding ability to hang onto pieces of paper. My credentials:
Sure, the date's wrong and the location is in the city where most of the nation thinks the convention is anyway. (Minnesota Rep. Michele Bachmann is even confused. Last night,, in response to a Larry King question about whether Dick Cheney should come to the convention, she said: "I hope everybody comes to Minneapolis.")
But if I show with the ticket, what GOP die hard could resist taking possession of it?
One potential problem.
Though the ticket was intact when I found it in a leather-bound volume of Women of All Nations that I purchased many years ago, over the years, the stub has come loose along the perforation. I suppose they could keep me out on a technicality.
The 1892 convention supposedly put Minneapolis on the national map, and lots of locals streamed into the event as if it were a truck pull or a Super Bowl game. It was held in a exposition hall on the east bank near St. Anthony Falls, which was later demolished for a Coca-Cola bottling plant, which eventually became condos and whatever.
The Republicans nominated an underwhelming incumbent, Benjamin Harrison, who lost to Grover Cleveland's comeback bid.