I'm voting for That One.
There isn't much new to say about last night's debate--even though plenty of things happened. For starters, McCain probably lost the election. I also managed to down two beers in ninety minutes...because every time McCain said "my friends," I took a drink. Worked out nicely for me.
Obama got off to what I thought was an uncharacteristically rough start: his focus seemed off, and he stumbled more than usual. But he hit his stride after the first half hour, hammering McCain on everything from the economy to foreign affairs. He made sure he was looking at McCain all night--whether nodding, smiling (I'm telling you, y'all--the Obama stare is as fierce as the Side Eye), or simply paying attention. The general message was clear: Obama wasn't about to let McCain out of his sight.
By contrast, McCain was quite literally all over the place: wandering the stage aimlessly and condescending to audience members, turning his back on one while she was speaking and assuming another had no idea what Fannie and Freddie are (and maybe this is my Angry Black Woman sense working overtime, but both of those audience members were young black folks). McCain even jabbed a finger at Obama at one point, calling him "that one." Huh. He was wooden, snippy, and made some really, really awful jokes (it could be construed that the hair plug joke was a dig at Biden, and if it was, McCain is an even bigger bastard than I imagined). In simple terms, Obama was engaging and McCain was...grumpy. Old and grumpy. Uncomfortable and old and grumpy. Near the end of the debate, he appeared to be leaning on his chair for support, answering questions from behind the chair or sitting sullenly in it. Mavericks get tired too, you betcha.
What we didn't hear (thank da lawd) was sniping about Ayers, Wright and Rezko. We also didn't hear about the VP candidates--and maybe that's because, after the VP debate, it was clear that its outcome would have little influence on voters' decisions. There were a few taunts from both sides, and I absolutely loved that Obama took the "fuck this, I'm saying what I have to say" route after Tom Brokaw finished licking McCain's hand for the umpteenth time. The town hall format was supposed to be McCain's strength, and last night he took the home advantage for granted. Not even Brokaw could keep McCain from looking like a tired, confused, surly septugenarian. Had McCain lost his cool and simply started yelling at the colored guy to get off his lawn, I don't think anyone would have been surprised.
Look for the third debate to be either McCain's saving grace, or the final nail in his campaign's coffin. This one's betting on the latter.