Wanna Bet?

As entertainment goes, Saturday night on TV has become the epitome of an oxymoron.  If one is not in possession of the pair of chromosomes that makes a person amenable to watching gigantic men run, jump, pass and collide in a sporting event, the menu on the boob tube on Saturday night justifies in spades the old vast wasteland moniker.

I had no date (hah! as if I needed to write that) and a dull throb behind my eyes was making reading too difficult, so I honored my commitment to stay abreast with what the other side is saying and tuned in to the 176th (that’s right, right?) Republican Presidential Debate on ABC. 

Here is my review of the debate in a nutshell: I laughed, I cried, I almost puked.

Observations

Frontrunner of the week Newt Gingrich got off the best rejoinder of the evening – heck, of the loooooong campaign cycle -- in response to main rival of the week Mitt Romney’s assertion that “I am not a career politician….”  In that feisty, reedy voice that literally trilled with self-satisfaction, Newt quipped “The only reason you aren’t a career politician is because you lost the election to Teddy Kennedy in 1994!”  I laughed aloud along with the studio audience, and continued laughing while watching Mitt Romney sputter through a retort.

Speaking of sputtering, Romney looked a little green around the gills when called upon to elaborate on his “obvious differences” with Gingrich.  For a minute there, he appeared to morph into his fellow good-haired opponent Perry, comically unable to come up with a single example for what seemed like a full minute.  I don’t know.  I think I would be able to tick off those kinds of things without missing a beat.  Maybe he’s tired?

When Texas Governor Rick Perry successfully misquoted something from Romney’s book and refused to capitulate, Mitt extended his un-calloused, elegant hand and offered to bet Perry $10,000!!!!!!  The late, great Ann Richards could be heard paraphrasing her old George Bush line:  “Poor Mitt.  He was born with a silver foot in his mouth.”  I mean who the hell do you know outside of Las Vegas who pulls ten grand out of his…um.. back pocket as a casual wager?  Nice, Mitt.  Way to get down with your peeps.

Then there is Ron Paul.  Now there is a guy who makes all kinds of sense, but does so in such a style that makes him seem like a composite of Pee Wee Herman, Gilbert Gottfried and Casper Milquetoast.  The word charisma has never been uttered within a country mile of that guy.  He holds steady with 18% of the votes in polls, but even the Sunday morning gab gals and guys keep forgetting to mention him.  Paul is about as Presidential as I am, which does not bode well for his election to the White House.  But when I listen to the things he consistently says – there will be no flip-flopping in the Paul campaign – he says it clearly, with total conviction and with what is commonly recognized in regular conversations as common sense.

As a woman, I found myself inwardly cheering for Michelle Bachmann last night.  Let me be clear; I do not agree with any of her thoughts, ideas or statements.  What I found myself admiring, though, is her steely ability to think on her feet, to articulate her point of view with quantitative supporting facts (at least I assume they are facts, which…well, you know), and her resistance to resorting to the Palinesque employment of her feminine wiles.  I would just love to see a debate between Bachmann and Hillary Clinton.

Rick Santorum and Jon Huntsman were there, allegedly, but neither said much.  They might as well have stayed home and watched it on TV with me.

After watching for almost 90 minutes, I have to admit my mind began to wander.  I think I might of gotten weary from hearing about how President Obama is responsible for everything bad that has happened in the last century.  Diane Sawyer’s measured delivery of anything she has to say has always had a Sominex effect on me.  So, I didn’t make it to the end.  But based on the talking heads and their repetitious coverage of the debate, I didn’t miss anything.