Free Cars and Barbies

Sunday, July 30 -- For the 2,066 actual delegates at this week's Republican National Convention, the pilgrimage to Philadelphia is about much more than politics -- it's about booty. Upon their arrival, delegates, alternates and GOP bigwigs were presented with a suitcase worth of loot, including a tin of Altoids, a package of elephant-shaped Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, and a genuine Convention Barbie.

Convention Barbie -- a limited edition of the popular plastic doll by Mattel -- sports high heels, a convention badge and a Nancy-Reagan-red suit with pearl buttons and matching earrings. She comes in African American, Asian American, Latina and Caucasian versions; all feature the traditional Barbie shape and stance.

Democratic National Committee spokespeople would neither confirm nor deny allegations that Barbie's absurdly stiff posture was inspired by Al Gore. But the Philadelphia Direct Action Group, a protest organization, issued a press release claiming Convention Barbie represents everything the Republican party wants a woman to be: "undernourished, dressed to kill, and inanimate."

THE BIRTHPLACE OF LIBERTY, AND TELEVISED CONVENTIONS

The conventional wisdom among TV pundits is that this time around the GOP fete has been stage-managed to the point of becoming one long infomercial. (They are shocked. Shocked!) Nevermind that this is a bit like the pot calling the kettle a George Foreman fat-reducing grille -- the fact remains that Philly is the birthplace of the televised political convention.

This is the sixth time the Republicans have met in Philadelphia. After hosting three relatively unspectacular gatherings in 1856, 1872 and 1900 -- at which the GOP nominated the memorable John C. Fremont, Ulysses S. Grant and William McKinley -- Philadelphia provided the stage for the nation's first televised convention in 1940.

Unfortunately for Wendell Lewis Willkie, almost no one owned a television set in 1940. So almost no one watched his nomination, or the passage of a Republican platform that both opposed America's participation in World War II and deplored then-President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's "explosive utterances."

Both the GOP and the Democrats held their 1948 conventions in Philadelphia, because the live TV equipment was too cumbersome to move from city to city. And by 1952, the conventions had begun the transformation from working meetings where parties chose a nominee to beauty pageants where parties began the arduous job of peddling their designated nominees to a suspicious public.

On Sunday, Pennsylvania Gov. Tom Ridge, a Republican and runner-up in this year's veep-stakes contest, begged forgiveness for his party's role in creating this quadrennial television event. "We were the first party 52 years ago to invite television cameras to cover our convention," Ridge told a reception of arriving GOP faithful. Ridge quickly added: "I apologize for that."

COME AGAIN?

The official GOP band on the convention floor has assembled an interesting repertoire of songs to entertain the delegates this week. Among them: John Lennon's "Come Together," which would seem aimed at the politically myopic Baby Boomers who George W. Bush is trying to lure into the GOP.

Liner note: Lennon originally wrote the song as a rallying anthem for his friend Timothy Leary, who was at the time mulling a run for Governor of California against Ronald Reagan. As he was writing the tune, President Richard Nixon's administration was working to deport the Beatle.

(No word at press time as to whether Ridge will be issuing any further apologies; Lennon and Leary were unavailable for comment.)

BIRDS OF PREY

In the unlikely event that Convention Barbie is unable to satisfy their passions, GOP insiders also had the chance to paw the latest military hardware. At taxpayer expense, the Pentagon has billeted an invitation-only arms show at the former Philadelphia Naval Shipyard.