The debate question was about electability. Who can beat His Ineptness?
Ron Paul responds:
"Any one of us on this stage can beat President Obama...". It's a fine applause line, and he gets it, a cheerleader effect. (Match a junior high eleven against the Chicago Bears and the school gym pep rally will echo with promises of an upset. Republicans are becoming persuaded Obama will beat himself, just like unpopular Harry Truman did in 1948.) No score.
When things quiet down, he becomes his sensible self again: "... the question is, what do we have to offer?" Then he trots out the logic which defines him, sound money, and end to warlike nation building in the Sandbox and beyond, government as a necessary evil rather than dispenser of free ice cream. Bingo. Out of the park, Sir. Everyone who hates free ice cream will vote for you.
Embarrassment of the night: Rick Perry: "I'm the Tim Tebow of the Iowa caucuses."
Surprise of the night: Michele appears quite sane in one or two exchanges and seems to have won the point that Newt is an ass for patting her girly little head.
Winner of the Georgia two-step competition: Newt for his creative explanation that sucking a million-six from the taxpayers via Freddie and Fannie is neither lobbying nor influence peddling.
Most disciplined hair and best-tailored suit: Mitt, for the umpteenth time, retiring the trophy.
As usual, Santorum displays the most concerned visage, just this side of tears. As a matter of simple human compassion, we need to cheer this guy up. Next time, somebody should ask him about muffins.
Also present: Huntsman.