Busting Cindy Adams' balls, and other WTF moments from the Democratic National Convention

We awoke this morning and wouldn't you know it: The stench has lifted. You know, that smell that hung heavily all week -- that subtle mix of patriotism (the proud delegates) and patchouli (the street whores), with a touch of bad-ass (Obama) and a slight whiff of bullshit (still Obama). It's wafting its way north now, through the plains to St. Paul, where it will crawl up the noses of every Republican in Minnesota and, if they're not careful, a few unlucky Canadians.
We, of course, are left behind to pick up the pieces, to try to figure out what the hell just happened. So, here, a look back at the week that was. After all, it was the only time in Denver's history that a white-haired, white-collared old man wearing coke-bottle glasses will sit at the bar at LoDo's swanky Spill, watching CNN and sipping Glenlivet. We better not forget it. -- Joe Tone
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