You're reading this on Monday. But I'm writing this on the previous Friday. The morning after the President Debate, "The Thriller of Old Vanilla."
I don't believe that readers who come to R17, willingly come for sugarcoating. In fact, my tagline for oh so many years has been: RoundSeventeen, no sugar added. So let's get out the coarse sea salt and rub it generously in the wound that was opened last Thursday Night.
Joe Biden lost.
The debate and presidency.
I know Red Hats are not fond of brutal honesty. If their guy had a poor, career-ending performance, they would gloss it over and claim he was a victim of Fake News -- perhaps the stupidest and deadliest and most antisemitic expression to come from our cultish friends on the right.
They have no ability for introspection, otherwise they would have long abandoned their felon/adulterer/tax cheater/purveyor of perfidy.
We, the critical thinkers on the other side of the aisle are not like that. Or at least we shouldn't be. We should have the fortitude and integrity of looking at the current situation. And making vital, existential, course correction.
And boy do we have some correcting to do.
Last night Uncle Joe dutifully delivered the facts and nothing but the facts. Through the stops and starts, fumbles and mumbles, he made the case for another term. But the manner in which he delivered it was a deal breaker.
In my younger days, about 100 years ago, I did tray pass at the Good Samaritan Hospital in Suffern, NY. I walked all 6 floors delivering meals to the infirm. There, I saw the same look Joe had. Mouth agape. 1000 yard stare. A certain stiffness in the neck, pre-rigormortis, perhaps.
And while that look is infinitely more preferable to the sweaty orange, caked-on-foundation look of his opponent, it is not the look one wants to see on the President of the United States of America.
If the race was tight before the debate, I shudder to think what the next swing state polling will reveal.
This is particularly frightening in light of our frustrating penchant for style over substance. Seven out ten American's believe Angels (with wings) look out for us. They're not interested in facts or data or even morals. Hence, the polling power of a blustery, blowhard fake strongman, who apparently can grab women by the pussy with no consequence.
Ms. Muse, who suggested today's piece, is a big fan of Michigan governor Gretchen Whitmer and believes she is the right candidate to fill Joe's soon-to-be-vacated shoes. All I know of Ms. Whitmer is that she bravely stood up to violent sorelosing Red Hats who had plotted to kidnap her in 2020.
I also know she polls well, not only in Michigan but in neighboring Wisconsin and Ohio, The Rust Wall, as it were.
There are still 5 months to go before the election. Many other countries conduct presidential campaigns and elections in less time that that. Moreover, her sheer youth and vitality could be just the tonic Americans need before tossing in the towel on democracy...er, our Constitutional Republic.
Swift, decisive action is needed. Now more than ever.
"When they go low we can't go to sleep."
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