Is it over?
Unless NBC picks it up as a five-times-a-week "reality" show, the Democratic Eighteen Months Out debates are over. I meant to watch, I really did, but while dusting I came across Yellow Moon, my Neville Brothers album, and I decided to go with Aaron's version of "A Change Is Gonna Come" instead. Change -- any change -- is good. Besides, Cyberheim is just full of places to catch up, in case there was anything to catch up with.
"Debate" is a good place to start. This was not a debate. This was a quiz show. "I'll have Medicare For All for four hundred, please, Alex." If Douglas and Lincoln got cut off after ten seconds, nobody would remember what they were arguing about. A true debate is a window into the debaters' grasp of issues, thought processes, and poise on their feet. We should have some.
It's always the crackpot who gets the attention, because they are easy to characterize and fun to parody. Five years ago it was Trump, wagging his dick and spewing absurdities, who stood out from a field of other morons. Oprah says she doesn't want to be president, so she sent one of her army of "spiritual advisers," Marianne Williamson. Or maybe she just showed up and got in line. Marianne writes New Age "books" and is proud to have no plans but love. She will conquer Trump's hate with her ocean of love, just as she once prayed away disease. (Hey, it works. Do you know anyone who has swine flu?) Williamson will soon join Howard Schultz in the footnote section, but do the Democrats really need a reputation as the party of new-age flakes?
What else happened? Mayor Pete impressed people who will never vote for him, some Spanish was spoken, Kamala Harris schooled Joe Biden on his lukewarm civil rights record (support for busing might have made it awkward to eat with his racist friends), Elizabeth Warren had to appear on the undercard for fear she'd destroy everyone who has an actual chance, and even Tulsi Gabbard was too radical for David Brooks, who would never vote for Trump but wishes the Democrats could nominate Nelson Rockefeller, I guess. The sad fact is that Rocky's moldering corpse would make a better president than Trump, currently at the G-20 doing his wink-wink with Mr. Putin, who swears on a stack of blinis he would never interfere in American elections (again).
Let me save you even more time. Tonight Bill Maher will take time out from providing a platform to Steve Bannon, Ann Coulter and Andrew Sullivan to whine that the Democrats don't take his advice, even though he gave them a million dollars. There's an hour you can spend organizing your sock drawer.
"Debate" is a good place to start. This was not a debate. This was a quiz show. "I'll have Medicare For All for four hundred, please, Alex." If Douglas and Lincoln got cut off after ten seconds, nobody would remember what they were arguing about. A true debate is a window into the debaters' grasp of issues, thought processes, and poise on their feet. We should have some.
It's always the crackpot who gets the attention, because they are easy to characterize and fun to parody. Five years ago it was Trump, wagging his dick and spewing absurdities, who stood out from a field of other morons. Oprah says she doesn't want to be president, so she sent one of her army of "spiritual advisers," Marianne Williamson. Or maybe she just showed up and got in line. Marianne writes New Age "books" and is proud to have no plans but love. She will conquer Trump's hate with her ocean of love, just as she once prayed away disease. (Hey, it works. Do you know anyone who has swine flu?) Williamson will soon join Howard Schultz in the footnote section, but do the Democrats really need a reputation as the party of new-age flakes?
What else happened? Mayor Pete impressed people who will never vote for him, some Spanish was spoken, Kamala Harris schooled Joe Biden on his lukewarm civil rights record (support for busing might have made it awkward to eat with his racist friends), Elizabeth Warren had to appear on the undercard for fear she'd destroy everyone who has an actual chance, and even Tulsi Gabbard was too radical for David Brooks, who would never vote for Trump but wishes the Democrats could nominate Nelson Rockefeller, I guess. The sad fact is that Rocky's moldering corpse would make a better president than Trump, currently at the G-20 doing his wink-wink with Mr. Putin, who swears on a stack of blinis he would never interfere in American elections (again).
Let me save you even more time. Tonight Bill Maher will take time out from providing a platform to Steve Bannon, Ann Coulter and Andrew Sullivan to whine that the Democrats don't take his advice, even though he gave them a million dollars. There's an hour you can spend organizing your sock drawer.
posted by Buttermilk Sky at 1:49 PM
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