Here at the convention, powerful people get a lot of benefits. As a nobody, of course I get nothing. Thus, it warmed my heart that while I was waiting for over ten minutes for an elevator at a busy hotel, a governor of a powerful state (and a speaker at the convention) was forced to wait right along with me.

The Ragin’ Cajun, James Carville, should be renamed the Crawlin’ Naw’lins because he was jogging near Denver’s creek so slowly that I passed him while running on one twisted, bum knee. As I ran past, he saw me looking inquisitively and remarked “it’s the oxygen, stupid.” Well, that last part isn’t true, but it would be cool if it were.

I have previously discussed the recycling system at the Pepsi Center, so today I’m including a picture of the bins and the bin attendants. I guess this has become a trashy blog.