The television set, a cheap 19-inch flat screen, lives in my closet. It was last mated with 110 volts and a coaxial cable in January when it seemed a good idea to watch the State of the Union address, just to fact-check my opinion that he is still in over his head; still nothing more than the almost accidental by-product of Chicago machine politics; still wedded to the narcissistic notion that the unicorns speak wisdom and speak only through himself? (Yes.)
And tonight the debate. Should a citizen drag out his electric teevee, plug it in, and blow the dust off in order to witness our latest shitstorm of demagogy as it happens?
In a way it seems a waste. The winners are predetermined. Trump for those citizens wedded to the Fox News school of journalism; Clinton for the special snowflakes suckled by MSNBC.
I believe nothing tonight will change the poll trends unless one of the stooges does an amazingly obvious pratfall. The she-thing, under pressure, might well slip into another foot-stomping door slam (what difference yada yada) The he (with a rolled up sock in his shorts?) is not beyond demanding an immediate declaration of war against China or South Ossetia or something because they're rapists.
N.B -- I think any disaster is more likely to happen to Trump. His mouth still seems free of any restraint. Hillary's tongue lately is tightly leashed to her handlers and their focus groups.
Right now, my propensity is to leave the teevee where it is. If I feel the need for a cleanout, I think there's a partial pack of Ex-Lax still in the medicine cabinet. But maybe not. We'll see.