Acting Out at Dancing in the Street
Most people called it debate night, but I like my spin better. It was actually a first date, which are always a nervous and tricky affair. Don’t worry though, because even if the twitterati decides that one of the fellows totally blew their first date, they are still guaranteed two more dates. While first impressions are always the most important, having two makeup dates has to be a comfort. A lot more first dates could have led to something, if there were second chances.
One more aside, before we move on to the main event. I was passing the card aisle in the grocery store before last night’s big date. In the Halloween section, I noticed a card with Romney’s doctored image on its front. It was captioned with the text “Romney Wins”, in Chiller font. Opening the card, I read the punchline, “This was the scariest thing that I could think of.” I toyed with the idea of purchasing one, and sending it to my Dad, but what if this scary thought came true? As, I put the card back into the rack, I noticed the empty slot in the rack below it. Missouri is a red state.
Most of you watched the debate on network TV. I watched on HBO pay-per-view. My take away from the debate might be a little different from yours.
Michelle stands at the rear of the arena and watches the battle continue. She is entranced by the power of it all. On stage, Obama keeps grinding ahead. He plants a thumping left-wing thrust to Romney’s heart, who winces. Obama is game but losing and Michelle is frantic. She is living the fight along with Barack. Carl Rove and his bodyguard watch from the second row. Rove looks proud, the bodyguard, impassive. The men are debating with appalling tenacity. Obama rips and tears into Romney’s body of lies. Romney counters with a ceaseless stream of rapier-like right-wing jabs. The President is seriously outclassed. Obama wades in and Romney employs some incredible footwork. The Twitterati shift in their seats, “Without a doubt this is the most punishing debate I have ever seen. The audience is figuratively spotted with blood.”
Obama stands stunned in the middle of the stage. Everything is a distortion. He looks for familiar faces as though to ask for help. Then Obama pulls himself together and tenses with renewed energy. He is like a wounded wild animal. The tide suddenly turns. Obama drops low and catches Romney with a pair of terrific body punches that seem to drive Romney’s diaphragm up to his throat. A crack is heard. A glaze of pain covers Romney’s eyes. It is only a supreme effort that keeps the Governor upright. Romney is badly hurt. He is bent over. Obama moves again towards Romney. Romney flicks dread jabs into Obama’s eyes. The Democrat wades in with punches that seem to bulge out Romney’s back. Blood is running from Romney’s mouth. In the clinch he leans over Obama and it drips down the Democrat’s neck and shoulders. Romney mutters, “Ain’t going to be no rematch.” Obama responds, “Don’t want one.” So Rocky allusion aside, it was a bit of a dog fight.