No one laid a glove on him last night, but, then, no one really tried to box him into a corner. Paul was his usual thoughtful self which is good for the national intellect, not so good for getting elected.
No one but Rick (I'm holier than Michele, honest) Santorum even swung hard, and he drew boos for saying Paul's Fed stance was "mostly wrong."
It's all background noise now, of course. The debate spin cycle has just a few more hours to run, and by the time the straw poll opens tomorrow the electrical teevee will overload circuits with news of Rick (I'm even holier than Santorum, plus I can do arithmetic and have cooler hair) Perry.
It is no longer about policy. It's about buses from the boondocks to Ames, full of people who made up their minds long ago. Paul has spent money on this little beauty contest. He has the buses and a much better organization than 2007. In the data-free expectations charades, he's tabbed to finish in the top three with Michele and Somebody Else. The better he does, the more pressure on media types to quit snickering every time someone uses the term liberty.
(There are no polls about this straw poll. The universe is too small, the expected turnout ranging from just under 14,000 to maybe 18,000.)
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Rocinante is saddled and I've scrubbed rust from the lance. A new edition of the TSA windmill identification guide is at hand. The house sitter/dog handler arrives shortly. I am putting aside my general disinclination to join groups larger than 30,000 and attend receptions where people in shined Florsheims notice your necktie. If this doesn't pay off in at least one belly laugh and several heartfelt grins, I am going to be one pissed off old war hose.
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