I’m not blaming Iowa for the pastiness of the seventh Democratic Debate, held in Des Moines on January 14th. But it sure didn’t help. Iowa is home to 90 percent whites and only three and a half percent blacks. It’s even worse in 94-percent-white New Hampshire. Why those two states go first isn’t worth a trip to Wikipedia. All our energy should be focused on changing the early states to those who better reflect our country’s racial diversity.
Actually, Tuesday night’s lily whiteness is on the Democratic National Committee. They required candidates to receive at least four percent in four DNC-approved polls, and have at least 200,000 individual campaign donors. Once the DNC literally saw the color drain from the qualifiers, they should have adjusted.
But they didn’t, so let’s review White Night at Drake University, also known as any night at Drake University.
The only excitement around these six candidates was the “he said, she said” disagreement about whether or not back in 2018 Bernie told Elizabeth a woman couldn’t beat Trump in 2020. Bernie strongly denied it. Elizabeth shot him a few side-eyes before her triumphant, “The men on this stage lost a total of ten elections. The only people who have won every election they ever ran in are the women.”
At the end of the debate, Warren extended her hand to Sanders, but he refused it. She called him out for calling her out as a liar on national television and he suggested they take it up at another time.
Look, I’m a woman and I’m not sure a woman can beat Trump in 2020. The American electorate is no stranger to misogyny. So let’s just call it a draw and focus our energy on removing the forever-impeached President Don John. Nothing else matters.
Well, one thing matters. Who’s it gonna be to replace this filthy rotten Beelzebub?
Elizabeth Warren was masterful, even without the slam dunk “women are winners” line. Her Harvard professorial style suits her well as she effectively explains her plans for us. When asked what qualifies her to be commander-in-chief she cited her listening sessions with soldiers in war zones; her place on the Senate Armed Services Committee; her three military bros; and her desire to bring home our troops in the Middle East. Good enough for me. I absolutely loved that during the last break she made a list of what wasn’t discussed, e.g. gun violence, black infant mortality, mental illness, and the assault on transgender women.
Bernie Sanders also made good use of his last break, once again making a beeline for the pee line. I love you, Bernie. Sanders wisely compared Iraq to Viet Nam and consistently reminded us of his instincts to stay out of both. He remains steady in his concern for everything that is crumbling around us: the middle class economy, infrastructure, homelessness, child development, and the planet to name a few. I like Bernie’s cute personality that has quietly emerged during these debates.
Pete Buttigieg, on the other hand, showed very little personality this time around. Maybe it’s because the whole wine cave thing petered out. Or perhaps because, with a smaller field, he looked like the chaperone at his junior high’s “Grandparents Kickin’ it to the Oldies Dance.” In any case, I wasn’t moved.
Speaking of Uncle Grandpa Joe, I just don’t see him looking presidential in a debate with Trump. If he thought ‘Corn Pop’ was trouble, imagine what President ‘Porn Slop’ will do to him. And maybe it’s his Catholic upbringing, but I think he looks weak when he religiously obeys the debate rules and cuts himself off before the light turns red. Let’s face it, there’s only one reason Biden is finally the front runner in this third run for the White House. And his middle name is Hussein.
Tom Steyer’s middle name is Fahr, which aptly describes his chance of reaching the Oval Office. Look, he’s a smart guy, a good guy, an actual self-made billionaire. Ten years ago he and his wife signed The Giving Pledge, which means they will donate half their fortune to charity. Mazel tov, Tom. But you, and your camera-focused, unblinking eyeballs, need to figure out which of your compadres has a real shot and then make it rain.
Amy, Amy, Amy. We get it. James Madison was the shortest U.S. President at five feet and four inches. And you used to be the shortest presidential candidate at five feet and eight inches. But Tiny Mike Bloomberg is about an inch shorter than you. Time to get some new material, girl. And for the love of Buddha, will you please stop with the rehearsed one-liners and cheap pandering? You thanked the rather bitchy Des Moines Register moderator, Brianne Pfannenstiel, for bringing up Iowa because “that’s where we are!” The Iowan audience rewarded that bit of brown-nosing with crickets. You learned at your recent visit to Vegas that “you don’t put a chip on a number on the wheel that’s not on the wheel.” Whu?
Then you ended your folksy pitch with a shout out to your good, close friend, the governor of almost-neighboring Kansas. Really close with her. Governor, um, on the tip of the tongue, red light flashing . . . KELLY!
Okay, I promise to cut back on the snarkiness once we land on our nominee. I vow to volunteer for our 2020 Democratic candidate. I will work day and night to defeat that disgusting, sleazy, cheesy Benedict Donald.
I just really hope it isn’t Amy. Please don’t let it be Amy.