Father Rick Santorum opened Tuesday's proceedings with a sermon (he built!) on a mountain of bullshit, and then handed the teleprompter to Mitt's real wife, Ann.
She did her best to close the gender gap, even going so far as to express a special love for teh womenz, but it was probably all for nada.
Finishing out the night was keynote speaker Chris Christie, who didn't want to be Mitt's running mate, and wasn't into Ann's lovey-dovey talk so much as he was into himself.
On Wednesday, after Condi Rice had sufficiently milked the applause, it was time for vice presidential nominee Paul Ryan to step up'"and step up he did; what his speech lacked in starbursts, it more than made up for with lies.
And then came Thursday'a night which will live in infamy.
When Hollywood gunslinger Clint Eastwood made his way to the stage, he threw caution (and the script) to the wind, and things quickly took a turn for the surreal.
In the course of a 12-minute free-form homage to Samuel Beckett, Eastwood introduced himself to a new generation of armchair politicos, and gave birth to one of the greatest memes of all time.
Nothing else mattered after that.
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