Hell hath no fury like a shady liberal scorned. Judging by this cover, you would think President Obama slouched over the podium the entire time, stumbled over his words, and bored the living hell out of the American public — prompting Mitt Romney to give him a good talking to. It’s so unfair because only one part of that is true. I was assigned to cover the first presidential debate elsewhere, and while I chose to forgo the this person won, that person lost roundabout way of writing about it, I didn’t pretend to be wowed by Obama’s performance. I also opted not to judge that reality as one particulary race altering.
I don’t put too much stock into any forum that calls on someone presumably qualified for any political leadership to explain the role of government in a two minute span. I watch debates for what they are: theater (hence, this post the day before of the debate). They’re kind of like award shows so judging from that prism it’s okay to say that Mitt Romney p-popped like Queen Creole Beyoncé while President Obama gave the nation one of those lazy Rihanna performances where her body imitates an adult relearning how to walk.
I didn’t have a conniption about it the way some of the panelists on MSNBC did the other night. Full disclosure: I enjoyed watching Ed Schultz and Chris Matthews go ape shit. I imagine it’s part of their job description. Lucky.
Similarly, I didn’t set myself to DEFCON1 in defense of the president either. Yes, I think debates are largely superficial and don’t mean much in swaying whatever seven people are keeping reporters busy by pretending they can’t figure out who to vote for. However, as superficial as they are, you’ve got to play your part. I didn’t expect the president to walk across the stage, backhand Mittens’ and say, “Quick lying to the nation, bitch!” Still, it would’ve been nice to see him take that bitch to college, give that bitch some knowledge.
Maybe my expectations are a bit too fancy (huh), but regardless of it being more thematic than anything, the biggest takeaway from the debate should’t have been Big Bird might have to go down to the welfare in a debate about the economy. Even I aim higher in spite of dismissal of its larger ramifications.
And as I type this, I just got an email from the Obama campaign entitled “#SaveBigBird.” Save Big Bird? I love Big Bird, but mellow yellow only needs his network to run a commercial to solve he and Snuffy’s worries about the survivability of their joint savings account. We’re the ones who will have to stop eating fried bird in order to have our bodies in tip-top sellable shape to cover rent and student loans. To hell with Big B; he’ll be okay.
But oh well. It’s over now. We’ll have all these sensational covers and accompanying articles for another 10 days or so until the next debate. Then the narrative will shift to Obama, the noted not so great debater, rising to the occasion, yadda plus a dash of blah, followed by a build to the third throw down.
I’ll probably get ask to contribute to the noise once more, hoping if nothing else, I gave some well-written and competent commentary for a check. More than likely, I’ll poke fun at most of it while envying Jon Stewart and Wyatt Cenac.
After which, everyone will be exactly where we were on the Tuesday before the first debate. It’s like “Let’s Go Through The Motions,” only without Mr. Dalvin’s not fantastic rap. Everybody get your role, on, but aye, you Barry, don’t let Thurston Howell The Asshole get away with that same monologue like that again. Be a team player.