Vice Presidential Debate
The not-so-great American VP debate.
I should start by apologizing to my (legions of) adoring fans for skipping Monday Mindfuck this week. The truth is I was in the process of moving from one state to another—physically and psychologically. (If anyone has ever lived in the Deep South and moved north, they can attest that one’s mental wellbeing improves once they see the “Welcome to [state with a slightly more functional government]” sign.)
I just need to find a way to keep going until I get to Canada. If only I knew a Canadian I could (illegally) marry. But I digress.
Refusing to pay for movers, I spent an entire weekend obsessing, organizing, packing, sorting, stressing, and pawning my extra crap on friends and neighbors. Of course, I didn’t bother to carefully plan the move-out date around important weather events, so I and/or my wife ended up driving for six hours in a rented pickup with an open flatbed—during tropical storm conditions—and another four with an unsecured tarp flapping in the heavy winds. I found myself praying desperately, even though I don’t believe in God anymore. Like the hero in an RPG, I abandoned, sold, stole, and borrowed valuable items to make it to my destination. It’s a story worth telling in detail. But not if I want to maintain the mystique of Madman Matt.
Let’s get onto the reason why I made myself get up this morning—after a delightful 12-hour knockout. There was a debate last night. (I’ll forgive you for forgetting or not caring.) No, it wasn’t round two of Kamala vs. Krazy, it was the humble, believable Midwestern dad Tim Walz vs. the smug, unbelievable Midwestern dad J.V. Vance (who is one step closer to varsity now, given how “smoothly” he completed his sentences).
They actually agreed with each other: Red and Blue. Coke and Pepsi.
I was as surprised (and appalled) as the late-night comedians, who brought me up to speed via one of my lazy YouTube-on-the-toilet moments. The truth is I couldn’t bring myself to watch more than five minutes of the debate live—but I assume it would have looked like the above photo if captured from behind the debaters. Empty suits talking to empty seats.
(Note: I’m being metaphorical here. Only a stupid asshole and/or Right-wing conspiracy theorist would take me seriously on this.)
Why bother watching? Why give CBS the ratings? It won’t move the needle. Asking “who won” is the wrong question. Whether or not Vance or Walz landed the most punches, “Greasers will still be Greasers and Socs will still be Socs,” to quote The Outsiders (and place it in a very different context). In case you never went to school, read a book, and/or fought in a turf war of any kind, the point is that crude, sophomoric competitions don’t solve complex problems. If they did, football would solve everything. Right now it only solves the problem of managing the dreaded Sunday scaries. I’ll take it, though.
Speaking of crude and scary, CBS did something that comedians are (rightly) making fun of—the fools substituted live fact-checking (read responsible journalism) with a QR code. You read that right: A fucking QR code. Has CBS become a new-agey urban restaurant that can’t afford proper menus but assumes we can all afford smartphones with active data plans? I hate this technology-for-the-sake-of-it shit. It’s not smart just because it’s so complicated it’ll fool grandma—and just because you can complicate the hell out of something doesn’t mean you should. What’s the goddam point of a passive medium if you have to do something active to get the benefit?
I’ll never know because I don’t bother with QR codes unless my wife’s busted-ass iPhone is dead—and I’m hungry A.F. Let’s bring back the days of calmly thumbing through a menu while waiting for your complimentary ice water. Kill the trees and save the cortisol levels. But I digress again—badly.
I’ll close by stating what should be obvious by now: If you want entertaining nonsense, by all means turn on CBS, MSNBC, CNN, or even Fox (but I doubt too many people reading this have the stomach for Fox—I would personally rather eat dog). But if you want nothing but the truth—beyond mere facts—subscribe to Madman Matt.
Help me win this crude, sophomoric competition for your attention.
