Bye bye, Johnny.

I have news for you, Senator.

“That one,” is going to be President.

What an insipid, failure of a man. McCain’s formaldehyde may be working to keep his cadaverous pallid skin preserved, but nothing else is strong enough to hold him together. I happened to be watching the debate the other night with a crowd that included the New York Times Magazine’s ethicist, Randy Cohen. I’ve never seen Randy laugh so much (partly due to the fact I’d never met him before) but, man oh Maneschewitz, righting McCain’s gaffes alone could keep Cohen employed. Each misfired delivery, every sophomoric attempt at being spontaneous, and “folksy,” easy-breezy and jocular, not only failed, but stunk of disrespect and racism. Let’s count some other failures to launch: Calling Oliver in section F “Alan” and then telling “Alan” that he probably hadn’t heard of Fanny Mae before this economic crisis, trying his hand at coyness, when Brokaw asked a yes or no question and McCain said, “maybe.” Comedy is in the timing my boy, and your time is o-v-e-r. How about we all just watch the debates with the sound off and judge everything based on body language? If invading personal space is your bag, if your movements are rigermortously as fluid as McStaid’s, if you think black men named Oliver all look like Alans, this be your man. Happy Yom Kippur.



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