There's no doubt that politicians burn most brightly in the rarified air of the conventions, but major media figures--and their ubiquitous brands--certainly run a close second. In many cases, they are also more recognizable, which makes it harder for them to throw a hissy fit. Unless I'm very much mistaken, it was an irate Joe Scarborough I observed the other day, walking rapidly across the broiling tarmac at the edge of the Pepsi Center and cursing the fact that the heavily armed security detail wouldn't let him exit through a forbidden gate. And even the littler fish make a strong impression. At the Ship Tavern, a power-lunching epicenter at the Brown Palace Hotel, you see face after face, all of them hovering just on the edge of recognition. You know these people. You have conversations with them--one-way conversations, unless you're yelling at the screen. They are the household gods of our media-saturated culture, and they exert a peculiar effect on the people surrounding them.


Take Chris Matthews, the blunt, fair-haired boy of MSNBC. He and his handlers have set up an open-air broadcast stage across from Denver's Union Station. And for whatever reason, zealots respond to him like the Pied Piper of Chevy Chase. I don't mean zealots of any particular stripe: if you feel a passionate commitment to almost any cause, it seems, you will gravitate to the area in front of the MSNBC stage. When I stopped by there yesterday on the way to the Pepsi Center, one guy with a handmade sign was denouncing the Democrats for their pro-babysitting stance (not a fan of subsidized daycare, I guess). Another waved his Labor for Obama sign back and forth with metronomic regularity. Behind me, the formidable ladies from CODEPINK set up shop and began singing "Down by the Riverside." Down in front, a large contingent of 9/11 Truth types were demanding that Matthews hold his guest's feet to the fire--whoever the guest happened to be. You couldn't hear the broadcast, although it was being piped over the public-address system. And anyway, the actual conversation was irrelevant. It was just something about Matthews: the crowd wanted him to exercise those famous predictive skills, which have twice won him the Washington Post's Crystal Ball award, or to grope Ellen DeGeneres again on national television.


In the video below, you can get at least an atmospheric taste of the MSNBC carnival. Just for the record, the 9/11 Truth platoon is shouting "Do Your Job!" For at least two minutes it sounded like "New York Times!"--an unlikely endorsement of the so-called paper of record. Not visible onscreen is a large detachment of police, decked out in riot gear and supplied with plenty of blue plastic wrist restraints. I assume these friendship bracelets were earmarked for the 9/11 posse, should matters get out of hand, but who knows? Under Matthews' spell, even the CODEPINK ladies might start behaving badly.