I could not bear watching the GOP debate last night, but I did my best to make it through a transcript. Hats off to whomever managed to follow that shitstorm closely enough to produce that thing. Oh my.
I thought that bunch had hit their low point earlier in this primary season, but I was wrong. The best face I can put on it was that it was a misguided attempt to honor the passing of Antonin Scalia by engaging in the worst stereotypes of an Italian family dinner: interrupt and talk over one another, toss in a barrage of disparaging comments, and wave arms around while mouth moves. All that was missing was the wine and horse head.
We might also look at it as a bunch of five year-olds in ties yelling “liar, liar, pants on fire” while picking their noses and throwing what ever they managed to dig out of the old snozz.
But here’s my take. Rinse Pubis and co have decided the gig is up. They’ve hired Vince McMahon to run the show. Until the lycra outfits, overalls and ring are ready, the players are still standing at podiums in their suits and ties. This 9th debate was a trial run. They’ll reveal the new titles and costumes at next debate which they’ll call the “GOP’s Smackdown Party.”
I hear Cruz and Rubio are fighting over who gets to be the Raging Cuban, but the rest of the group hasn’t come up with any ideas yet.