So you're a delegate and taking to heart the New York Times'  suggestion on how to "ditch the press corps." So you head to Lannie's Clocktower Cabaret, hoping to see some burlesque, and instead wind up lost in a dank LoDo alley, and your cellphone is dead. Praise the trusty Democratic National Convention goodie bag! You reach in and pull out a FedEx lip balm, throw it back in and reach in again. This time you bear a box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese with a cartoon donkey on it. Let's see, did those nice people at Goodwill Industries pack a map in here? As you dig, you hold onto a fistful of promotional pens and a Staples notebook--just in case you might need to write something. What comes to mind immediately is: "Help! I'm lost." You're nowhere near crying, but the Walgreens tissues ease the allergy attack that's starting to kick in.
You keep rustling though the contents at the bottom of the bag, pulling out a pedometer--useless at this particular moment. Put it next to the UPS mailing envelope. Next up: Ibuprofen. Score! You swig it down with the Joint Juice. Mmmm... Lemon-y. Finally, salvation! A map and an emergency radio. And Goodwill's DNC goodie bag, it turns out, was more fun than the one your Republican colleagues are likely to get when they hit the streets in Minneapolis-St. Paul. There's a long list of unusual restrictions on their bags, according to a trusty source: No liquid or powders, for instance. The GOP bags also aren't sponsored. Sponsors of the DNC goodie bag paid $60,000 each.