I didn’t want to sit at the convention. I wanted to practice my big speech. The one speech that would rule them all.
But these fucking staffers and political consultants. They forced me into some social learning seminar to go over how faces should and shouldn’t look, how people look when they are happy or bored or mad. As if I need this shit.
First they show a picture of me—- “forced, fake smile,” they say. The ideal smile is called a Duchenne smile — it’s one that comes from the eyes — not just lots of teeth like mine. It’s sincere. It exudes sincerity and elicits trust. We worked on it until I started throwing things at them when it just became tedious.
They also wanted to me understand the “Resting Bitch Face” look so I could be careful when just sitting there in the convention — to work on tiny smile at all times in order to avoid the resting bitch face. And they showed me a picture of Gwen Walz — to see what NOT to look like. Yikes… sweet, socialist woman, but serious RBF.
I did catch a bit of the convention on TV. I saw a little of the Tim Walz speech. And the jury is no longer deliberating on that one — it’s official, I hate him. Creepy. And annoying.
I saw a little of the crowd, too. One of my faves was a chick wearing a “Hotties for Harris” tee-shirt. Fake news, is what it immediately made me think… I mean she was hardly a “hottie” — maybe a 7.5 in Chicago, but in CA, more like a 6.
And, I brat. Fuck the Duchenne Smile. And the stupid know-it-all consultants.