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|An Impression of
Jeremy Datwheiler"On every side, sorrow, on every side lamentation, everywhere the image of death." Saint Jerome, Epistle
The stars have come out for this event, making their way to the this quaint but queer little town, Innsmouth. It is offputting, to say the least, that the locals have done little to welcome the press and attention this convention has brought down to them. Innsmouth, nothing more than a fishing village, has been bypassed by the booming economy as it was bypassed by the recessions of the past. Nothing seems to be able to disturb this town out of its quiet, furtive ways. Putting in an appearance so far, apart from the few media superstars who are passing through before flying out to Los Angeles, are novelists and artists. To list the names would invite too many questions. Most claim they are here for the carnival atmosphere of the convention. If this convention is a carnival, it is the dark reflection of the gay and joyous festivities most Americans are familiar.
My father's uncle, Mathus Datwheiler, had a charter fishing business many years ago. On many a night, after he had several drinks of scotch and water, he would tell a story of taking a group of sports fisherman out for the day. The engine on the boat failed and they spent most of the day fixing it. The sun had set by the time the little fishing vessel began its journey through the dark waters off the coast of Innsmouth. It was then one of the fisherman spotted several light dancing above the water. With the help of binoculars, they were able to see three skiffs filled with five to six men each. A few men carried storm lanterns and were walking on the barely concealed Devil's Reef. As my Uncle's boat chugged along by the reef, they witnessed several forms come out of the sea to meet with the men in the skiffs.
I cannot say if it was my grand Uncle's overactive imagination, the delusions of alcohol, or something else altogether. But I cannot walk through this town and look at the locals without thinking of that story. It has been a running joke on the way here about the 'Innsmouth look', the sort of thing one talks about in regards to inbred cultures. Little did I know this was the sort of thing I would be facing in coming to Innsmouth to cover the convention.
For the greater part of weekend, I spent my time talking with the locals, who were not forthcoming at all. The question I kept asking, one of the several large questions surrounding this political convention, was if the candidate, Cthulhu, would be making a personal appearance. One fellow, A.F. Willie, spoke for the majority by saying that he hoped the candidate didn't make an appearance at Innsmouth, but accepted the nomination from his home in Raleigh.
I was unaware until this point that Cthulhu was from the South. The few political analysts who have made their way to cover this convention are now in discussion on whether this might have an affect on the Republican party's constituency in the South. Cthulhu, though, seems to have an appeal to a different sort of Southerner. While Cthulhu hasn't even made it on any of the polls, falling behind Libertarians, Natural Law, Reform, Green, and Frontier parties, the delegates are certain that when Cthulhu makes his move, he will easily destroy his competition. Only time will tell.