Watching the Wreck

Some thoughts, post-debate

My husband likes a good county fair, and lacking access to that, he will drag us to a mediocre one to watch a demolition derby and eat elephant ears. That’s where I was when I received a text from a Canadian friend last night. She was watching the debate. “Biden is barely alive,” she wrote, “he’s making Trump look competent omg. How is this not elder abuse?”

Down in a muddy pit, demolition derby cars with windshields removed revved their engines and bashed into one another. Crash. The crowd cheered and jeered. It’s such a futile activity. Winning just means being the last one able to move.

We got home in time to see what I now understand was the more lively portion of the debate. Our president, who has a speech disorder (so do I, so I get it, I do) was also hoarse, but looked like he’d just been woken from a bad dream. He appeared at times disoriented. He couldn’t string together answers on crucial topics that impact millions of American lives: reproductive rights, affordable child care, climate change, and on and on.

Meanwhile, Donald Trump spat out lie after lie (which CNN’s moderators failed to call him on), but appeared relative to Biden, strong.

Substance matters, truly. I wish there was more substance upon which to judge the floundering mess that was last…