Before we wave goodbye to the 2016 Democratic Convention there are a couple of question marks I’d like to see hammered into exclamation points.

Einstein preferred “thought-experiments,” but he would settle for an occasional joke to give a story clarity. Harold, a traveling salesman, decided to return home a day early and emailed his intention to his wife. When he got home he found his wife in bed with another man.

Harold stormed out of the house, running into his mother-in-law who was approaching the front door. “Harold,” she exclaimed, “You look so upset. Is something wrong?” In ill-repressed rage Harold muttered, “You’re damned right something’s wrong. Your daughter is upstairs in bed with another man!”

“Don’t move, Harold,” commanded his mother-in-law. “Stay right where you are. There must be some explanation. Let me get to the bottom of this.” Three minutes later Mom emerged from the house with a grand smile.

“I told you there was an explanation,” she crowed. “Your wife never got your email!

That’s no longer a joke. It’s an accurate description of what may be the grandest political manipulation of all time!

Instead of marveling at all the staggeringly scandalous messages Democrats have been sending one another, the Democratic spin-wizards have succeeded in directing the entire issue over to who’s responsible for the WikiLeaks dump! Instead of demanding to know who it was who suggested Sen. Sanders’s Jewish background might be used to harm him in Kentucky and West Virginia, the only argument is, “Are the Russians behind this email dump to help Donald Trump?”

There’s close to zero interest or attention as to whether those 30,000 emails are fake or authentic. But don’t over-congratulate the Democratic magicians. You need a brain-dead victim to pull this kind of thing off, and the Republicans seem happy to offer themselves.

Whodunit?” comes only after we determine if we’re dealing with fiction – or did real-life Democrats actually write this kind of stuff to one another?

Equally bedeviling is the mystery of former Democratic National Committee Chairwoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz. I see a parallel between Debbie Wasserman Schultz and Hermann Goering. I’m not suggesting Debbie is an overweight Nazi with a drug problem. This is a different kind of connection.

On Monday morning, July 25, the outrage over the WikiLeaks emails was enough to let Debbie know she’d have to suffer some kind of career discomfort. When Nazi Germany entered its final hours of existence, Air Marshal Hermann Goering carefully inventoried his large collection of uniforms. Gilbert and Sullivan could have costumed at least five musicals out of Hermann’s closet. He wanted to select his finest because he was convinced he’d soon be sitting with Generals Eisenhower, Patton, Bradley and Montgomery, drinking schnapps and talking about what a bad guy Hitler was!

Likewise, Wasserman Schultz thought she could smother whatever difficulty was aiming for her by giving up her chairmanship of the oncoming Democratic Convention. And to Debbie, on that Monday morning, that meant she would gavel the convention in, gavel it out and speak somewhere in between. By nightfall, however, Debbie, to continue the analogy, knew she faced “the gallows”! She was reconciled to abandoning the convention altogether and resigning from her highly prestigious post of director of the Democratic National Committee. And that would leave her a damaged and vulnerable candidate for re-election to her congressional seat in South Florida!

Question: What did Debbie see, read or hear between dawn’s early light and nightfall that Monday that converted her from staunch defiant to limp dishrag?

The answer could range from something as dull as additional Democratic Party political pressure, clear over to something worth a documentary or perhaps a feature film or a tabloid’s entire front page.

In an election like this one, it’s always good advice to enjoy your adversary’s discomfort while you may, because you never know how it’s going to turn out. I personally expect a pro-Trump blowout thanks to the sheer overload of Hillary negativity. But such a conversion from negativity to lost votes requires a caring and intelligent electorate. Forgive the insult, America, but I remember when we were one!

A conservative commentator I admire a lot voiced concern that the Democratic Convention was a little too successful for his comfort.

I reminded him that he needn’t worry. When you pour some of the finest French perfumes over a healthy creek-bank skunk, you achieve a certain momentary change of fragrance – but it’s a losing battle.

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