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Not Going to Play That Game

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Harrison Ford - Presidential Mannequin

Harrison Ford at the Cannes film festival.

Having spent a bit of time perusing the media and blogosphere to gage reactions to last nights Republican Presidential debate, it occurred to me that who 'won' should be of absolutely no interest to anyone. The press has been falling over itself to declare a winner ('Perry - more Presidential!', 'Romney - a safe pair of hands!', 'Bachmann - didn't say anything too crazy!) meaning the substance of the debate was largely ignored.

And that's the problem with American politics - it isn't about substance, it's about style. The mignons of make up artists, speech therapists, image consultants and media strategists make sure that their candidate looks and sounds as close to a movie version of a President as possible, crafting an image that makes it impossible to know what they actually believe about anything.

Last night's debate, if you listened to it, told you one thing: That all of the candidates bar perhaps John Huntsman (and maybe Mitt Romney) should not be allowed anywhere near the White House. The mixture of religious and economic fundamentalism is truly frightening, and regardless of how much they resemble Harrison Ford in Air Force One, none of them are remotely capable of handling the complexities of national government.

Who won the debate? Who knows. Judging the robotic anwers and color coordinated outfits is a highly subjective art, and different analysts look for different things. Many people believe Perry pipped it, and it true, is seriously worrying. Writes Bob Cesca:

A slaw-jawed yokel in a Sears mannequin wig who, during last night’s debate, flat out lied about his record in Texas. He’s George W. Bush rebooted.

And because of these things, he’s totally electable. As I’ve already predicted: he’ll win the nomination.

This is the twisted reality of the modern Republican Party. It champions stupid lying morons and rejects smart, reasonable statesmen.

It doesn't really matter who wins the Republican rat race. Because at the end of the day, they'll still be a rat.

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