Another day, another brutally boring presidential debate. No major gaffes, no riveting answers, not even a clear-cut winner. If you put the debate on a spectrum, last night's snoozefest falls as close to the Debbie Downer side as you'd ever want to go. It was so bad, in fact, that we actually started to miss Sarah Palin winking cutely while refusing to pronounce the letter G.
All 63 million viewers (66 million if you count PBS, which apparently no one does) who tuned in should demand their precious time back.
What, you think we have nothing better to do than sit around and watch John McCain stand uncomfortably close to the audience members while saying "My Friends" more times than we thought could possibly be crammed into a ninety minute segment?
Actually, it was 24, but we swear it seemed like a hell of a lot more. Maybe it's cause he is a little on the "older" side, if you didn't notice, and his words just sort of seem to drag out.
If there was a single moment of pleasure to be had during Tuesday night's coma-inducing town hall debate, it was probably blue-collar Johnny awkwardly referring to Obama as "that one," during a discussion on energy policy.
Oh, Johnny. You're so cute when you're grumpy. But, we all know that under the grimace, you have one hell of a sense of humor. Which is great because now we know you won't be offended when in the next debate Obama contrasts his policies with "that old bastard" next to him.
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