Young Turks Get Their 'ship Together

Membership, that is. On Saturday, May 24, 2008, an historic meeting took place, a perfect storm, if you will. Like Obi Wan Kenobi "completing the circle" by meeting his onetime protege, or Godzilla meeting his metaphorical father, Raymond Burr, I, Tommy Christopher, was to meet, face-to-face, "Papa Bear" Cenk Uygur.

Does everyone know who Cenk Uygur is? Certainlyyyy! If you live in a cave, or have been cryogenically frozen waiting for the Bush administration to end, let me fill you in. Cenk is the host, producer, and spiritual pilates instructor of The Young Turks, the finest program to leave Air America Radio this year.

What many of you don't know is that Cenk is also the Frankenstein (that's FRAHNK-en-steen) to my bolt-necked creature, for it was he who facilitated my ascension to The Political Machine, (as well as the ascent to Turkdom of our own Abby Tonsing) where I now flee, on a daily basis, scores of torch-wielding villagers.

When I heard that Cenk and his Igor, Dave Koller, were getting together for drinks with some Young Turks members, I knew I had to go. What I didn't know was that hell awaited me.


OK, hell didn't really await me. Actually, it was a really nice time. I showed up a little early, so I got to meet some of the other members, whose pictures adorn this page. There was Mike, who does maping for GPS systems, so when that authoritative female voice tells you that some dude's driveway is the Garden State Parkway, you can thank him.



Then, there was Walt, who is a technical writer. I said, "That's funny, because I'm technically a writer." Ha ha! With Walt was his wife, Jen, who is a makeup artist. She paints portraits of people who were just fighting.


I jokingly asked if any of them recognized me, and they jokingly pretended not to. Walt did cop to having read some of my writing, like my treatise on religion.

Just as we were pulling some tables together, Cenk showed up, and he immediately shook my hand and said, "Tom! How ya doin'?"


I said, "Hey, Cenk, do you mind? I'm talking to people here!" OK, not really, but that would have been funny.

Now, here's where the story might get a little strange. Those who know me know that I am a total lightweight when it comes to the drinking. I metabolize alcohol like a 9 year-old. It didn't matter so much when I painted the town with the Barely Political crew, because all they had there was beer (eww!), but this was a different story. I was trashed after 2 margaritas. Truthfully, I was smashed after the first one, and drank the second to try and save face.

Dave Koller showed up next, and was the unfortunate recipient of my tippling stream-of-consciousness. I have 3 stages of drunkenness, the first being wisecracking bowery boy, the second, Captain Jack Sparrow, and the third, or tertiary stage, is leprechaun. I gave him stage one, pitching him ideas for the show in 1930's street slang.



I also noticed that he bore a passing resemblance to Ralph Fiennes. I made him stick 2 fingers out and say, "I pardon you."

This prompted Jen to opine that I reminded her of Tommy Lee Jones. This is better than what I usually get, a rotation of Rich Hall (when I was young), Michael Moore (when I was really fat), and Garrison Keillor (if I'm wearing glasses).

Cenk's fiancee, Wendy, was also there, and she was really nice, and very pretty. She's lived in LA for eight years, and loves it. Jen asked her if she wants kids, and I was so busy tryin to warn Cenk that I missed the answer.



His sister, Sedeth, also was there. She was very sweet, and seemed kind of quiet. Maybe that's just compared to me. Some of Cenk's friends were there, too, but I left their names in that 2nd margarita glass. One of them was named Sujay. They're all goin to read this and hate me, because I made them tell me their names, like, 3 times each so I wouldn't forget.



After a few hours of trading journalism war stories and dishing off the record, Cenk and his peeps repaired to some elitist cuisinery for dinner, and the rest of us wandered out into the breezy Jersey Shore evening. I was still too buzzed to drive, so we went to another bar, where I drank water for 2 hours.

I left for a minute to put my briefcase in my car, and I stopped to talk to the parking attendants. For ten bucks, I thought the least I deserved was a quick quote. Their names were Eric and Eric. 20 year-old Eric liked my bumper stickers, and says he is voting for Barack Obama. 39 year-old Eric described himself as "more of a Libertarian," whose main issue is ending the war. Because of this, he leans toward Barack Obama.



Back at the bar, a few surreal moments stuck out in my mind. Someone said I looked like Wilson from House, which was the second time in one night that I was compared to a non-chick-anti-magnet, a personal record. The 3 piece lounge band played a Green Day song. And, somehow, in the midst of all this randomness, I managed to make a potentially important political contact. Nice work, if you can get it.

As I went back to my car, I met Bobby, another parking attendant who must've been hired on No Eric Day, and he said he didn't think he was goin to vote. "Bobby, you gotta vote!" I said. "If you do vote, who ya gonna vote for?"



Bobby's 19 years old, this will be his first presidential election. "Barack Obama, I guess," he smiled.

I urged him again to vote, but if any of you Long Branchians know Bobby, see what you can do to get him to the polls in November.

This reminded me of something Jen told me. She said she was turned off by politics because it had become such a soap opera, she didn't feel invested or involved in it. I told her to give me any subject, and I would tell her how it involved her, politically. She was holding my water glass, so she said, "How about this water?"



My answer isn't important. What is important is that people realize that, when they cast their votes, it has an impact on their real lives, so their real lives should determine how they cast their votes. I try to remember that when I write about politics, and I think Cenk does that on his show. It's only a game to those who know they've already won.