Sussex Jamboree, Blair Witch Style

As I mentioned yesterday, the Jamboree is a once-a-year get-together for Democrats in Lewes, Delaware. Aside from the annual Jefferson-Jackson dinner, it is the largest single gathering of Democrats of the year. That always makes it an important event, but when there are primary elections—including, probabably, one for the Lieutenant Governor’s office—it becomes even more important to make a good impression on the party’s most faithful.

There are really only a couple of ways to do that. One is by making the rounds and talking to people. I tried to do that this year, but no one would talk to me because my son Zach was making the rounds with me and all they wanted to do was coo over him. (For the record, he supports me in the primary and, along with his brother, was wearing a custom-designed Denn for Lt. Governor t-shirt.) A second way of making an impression is by having people wear your campaign t-shirt. I don’t know when this became important at the Jamboree, but it has spiraled a little out of control, to the point where I am pretty sure we had a few t-shirt wearers at the Jamboree this year who, shall we say, may have gotten a little something for their efforts in addition to the traditional plate of fried chicken and bracing sea breeze. Nevertheless, my informal count indicates that the Denn campaign carried the day over every other campaign on volume, style (Mrs. Denn also sported a custom designed t-shirt), and ‘authenticity’ points.

Finally, if you are lucky, you get five minutes to talk. Five minutes only—they were quite clear about that. You can see my five minutes by clicking here



After going through the agonizing process of watching myself speak on film, let me answer the following questions in advance:
1. No, I do not know why I appear to launch into a strange jazz-style dance at one point when discussing the Republican party. I guess health insurance reform brings out the Mario Lopez in me.
2. Yes, I know I am talking really fast. I am talking so fast because (a) they really were emphatic that some sort of trap door would open at the five minute mark, and (b) although my kids were not eating sand, as I joked at the beginning, they were wilting in the heat and Michele was in the midst of a Quest for Fire style foraging expedition for suddenly-scarce drinking water that I needed to aid.
3. Yes, I am available for small childrens’ birthday parties, but I will not dress as a clown. Well, I will for $1,200, but that is non-negotiable.