There are so many articles about Trump’s utter failure at the debate. These are some of my favs:
Striding toward Trump and shaking his hand was a move of pure domination on Harris’ part. It was planned, of course, and it was successful. Trump looked like a defeated, tired old man who had met his match in the form of an opponent who did not fear him, and told him with her actions that it’s her that should be feared.
I’m the captain now, Harris said with her handshake. I will dictate the terms of our debate. This is not your show anymore. It was a display of unfiltered WWE-style stagecraft that put Trump on his back foot and kept him there all night.
He’s getting worked up now. The horse tranquilizers have clearly worn off, and he has concepts of a plan to put this woman in her place. It’s 6:31 p.m. No holding the man back now.
I’m annoyed that I had to watch this whole thing, but I got what I came for. Harris destroyed this weird old man…
… she was human where Trump was feral.
Kamala Harris Is the First Post-Trump Candidate:
Harris didn’t come off as furious or offended as she listened to Trump’s lies. Instead, she looked at ABC’s cameras the way you might look at your spouse in the presence of an overserved relative who doesn’t realize he’s making a scene at Thanksgiving dinner.
… Harris offers a different version of Trump: He’s not the sun; he’s the guy who has overstayed his welcome at a party.
Instead of getting baited into Trump tangents—childishly arguing over golf prowess, for example, as Biden did—she treated his digressions as unserious or unworthy. Harris’s facial expressions last night made for easy memes and screenshots, but they’re also of a piece with Democrats’ most salient line of attack—that Republicans are “weird” and enmeshed in an extremely online far-right universe of alternative facts. The weird critique has stuck for Harris and her running mate, Tim Walz, precisely because it is dismissive of Republican talking points. Instead of pearl-clutching, it presents the MAGA arm of the party as lost and out of touch.
What Harris’s campaign and debate style propose, however, is a different view of Trump, not as the central figure in American politics but as a vestigial element of a movement that’s so curdled by grievance and enmeshed in an alternate reality that it is becoming not just culturally irrelevant, but something far worse: pitiable.
Who Won The Debate? The Swirling Existential Void That Will Consume Us All:
Trump’s rhetoric was a bigoted brain fog of the same old shit recycled from watching Fox News on a loop.
… her opponent, a manic septuagenarian who loves crimes…
“The same old, tired playbook”: Harris baits an aging Trump into being his grumpiest, weirdest self:
He was glowering through pink-rimmed eyes under his combover, every inch the mean man everyone avoids at the retirement home
He spent the debate vomiting out all the weirdest right-wing conspiracy theories as though he was a scowling human embodiment of an illiterate MAGA meme.
He sounded very much like a chatbot programmed to speak only in far-right phrases, except worse, because it’s shorting out.
The choice was visible on the split screen: Harris, the normal, competent politician; Trump is Gramps wandering in the streets without his pants on because he won’t take his medication. As Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg said, “He’s really doubling down on the crazy uncle vibe this evening.”
Beltway journalists have fallen into a bad habit of rewriting Trump’s babbling monologues so that they sound like coherent political speeches. For instance, when Trump was recently asked about childcare policy, he let loose with, “I think when you talk about the kind of numbers that I’m talking about . . . child care is child care. You have to have it — in this country you have to have it,” before going into a rant about tariffs. This was characterized by the New York Times as Trump saying “he would prioritize legislation on the issue but offered no specifics.” This imposes a coherence that wasn’t there and is also flatly untrue, as Trump never said it was a priority.
This is a satire piece, but still very solid.
Maura Quint’s Presidential Debate Recaps: The One with the Tackle and the Bait:
Davis asks flatly, “Do you think Vice President Harris has a boss whose job is the beach? Do you believe Ken, the doll from the Barbie universe, is the vice president’s boss?” Trump answers, “I don’t say anything. Many people tell me he’s just Ken, but I don’t know. I don’t know, they might be right. The beach is—” Davis cuts Trump’s mic.
Responding to a question about the border, Harris smiles and pulls out a fishing rod, “I’m going to invite you to attend one of Donald Trump’s rallies,” she says, baiting the hook with a tiny dangling television tuned to Bravo. “He’ll talk about characters like Hannibal Lecter and windmills causing cancer to small crowds, and people leave these rallies early out of exhaustion.” She casts the TV so that it hangs just above Trump’s head. He jumps for it, but she pulls it away. Clearly agitated, he exclaims, “No one goes to her rallies! She doesn’t have any friends, and no one likes her, and my dad bought my whole birthday party, and you have to come, or else he’ll put you in jail.” Harris stares directly at Trump, smiles, and recasts. Trump, frenzied, says, “In Springfield, they’re eating the dogs! They’re eating the cats! They’re eating your pets!” David Muir nods, “Thank you. I just want to clarify we have reached out to the town of Springfield, and they say there are no credible reports of pets being harmed.” Trump continues jumping for the fishing line, “Santa’s Little Helper is in trouble! They’re doing ‘Snowball II,’ ‘Snowball III,’ ‘Snowball 19,’ and more ‘Snowballs’ than you’ve ever seen because of the Bumblebee Man. The people on my television say the dog was eaten, the people on the television!” Muir nods, “I’m not taking this from television.” Harris smiles, reels the TV back, and puts the rod away.
After Trump criticizes Obamacare without offering an alternative healthcare plan of his own, Davis asks, “Yes or no, you still do not have a plan?” Trump frantically searches through his Trapper Keeper, “I have concepts of a plan,” he says. “But my dog—Biden’s dog ate it. Commander, what a mongrel. I would like to see the immigrants eat him, actually. It would be very sad, because I love animals. I’ve been to many zoos, folks, but Biden’s dog must pay the price for eating my concepts of a plan.”
“She’s Biden, and she’s trying to pretend she’s not, but she’s Biden!” Harris shakes her head and sighs, “Clearly, I am not Joe Biden. It must be very scary for you right now. Do you know what year it is? Can you tell me your first name?” Trump’s phone dings, and he happily yelps, “Vlads!” only to melt further into the podium, muttering, “No, sorry, it’s the McDonald’s to-go app. Do you have it? It’s a tremendous app. McDonalds loves me. They have very special deals just for me, only for president me.”
I don’t like her. She’s mean, everyone in here is mean. This is a failing nation that I’m in charge of, and I think I should run against Biden, who is dead. Where is he? We don’t see him. Is he with the Ghostbusters now, you know that one ghost, very sexy, very nice ghost taking the pants off, and they were very mean to the marshmallows, weren’t they? Very mean. I would like to wish everyone, including all haters and losers, of which, sadly, there are many, a truly happy and enjoyable debate.