I’m late to the party re last night’s debate because the party in my hot tub at my palatial pad here in Echo Park went on til the wee hours and I had to TiVo the darn thing and watch it on my 50-inch plasma screen this morning, but fwiw:
Loved the way On-Message Newt showed up last night, taking the fight right to . . . Chris Wallace? And what was up with that lean Six Sigma bafflegab? Sounds like some kind of top-secret Rethuglican SWAT team.
Same Ol’ Tim showed up: not a credible candidate. But, much to this liberal’s enjoyment, he did manage to drag down . . .
La Belle Michele, who got needlessly embroiled in inside-baseball Minnesota wrangling. And if she really thinks “submission” means “mutual respect,” there’s a few mullahs I’d like to introduce her to.
One wants to like Ron Paul, but even an anti-war lefty like me simply cannot like Ron Paul.
I know you wingnuts want to like Rick Santorum and in fact you do like Rick Santorum, but he will never be president.
Personally, I like the Pizza Guy, although his sense of humor eludes me. And he and Newt really have to get together and work out that Loyalty Oath thing before the next debate.
Did the Chinese Guy ever show up?
Willard was, well, Willard — smiling, bobbing, weaving and making our guy Barry look like a font of specificity and sincerity. Of course, maybe that was because he spent most of the evening looking over his shoulder at: You Know Who.