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Dingus of the Week: Presidential Debates
Mug shots shots shots shots shots shots
This is the Weekly Dingus. More and more people have come to rely on the Weekly Dingus™️ as way to relax and unwind during the decline of man. The Dingus began in 2020 as a way to make fun of someone or something in the news making our lives a little worse. It continues today, simply because this bitch knows how to commit to a bit. If you enjoy the Weekly Dingus™️, consider becoming a subscriber.
On Wednesday night, eight Republican candidates were present for the first presidential debate.
And as if to prove to America what a useless exercise in political theater the debate was, the first question was about that country song “The Rich Men of North Richmond.” “The Rich Men of North Richmond” was a song specifically created to be a cuck in the culture wars. A song so blatantly crying out to be canceled that it gives off Jeb Bush “please clap” vibes. No one has listened to that song out of joy or a love of music. People only listen they could write angry cancel culture tweets about it.
“The Rich Men of North Richmond” isn’t a song, it is bait.
And of course, Ron DeSantis answered the question by not answering it at all. Instead, he announced was going to send Joe Biden back to his basement in Delaware. Recycling a line he’s used over and over on the campaign trail. Sending Joe Biden back to his basement. Faucism. Hunter Biden’s laptop. Cocaine in the White House. A list of evils carefully constructed of ideological cardboard and about as sturdy when facing rising sea levels.
The whole night sounded like a rote exercise in Fox News talking points parroted by bloodless cucks. Seven grown men and one woman all trying to out-trump Trump, all the while being too afraid of the shitpost army of Trumpist trollers to even say anything real.
Specifically, Mike Pence looked like he’d been stabbed and drained of bodily fluid then embalmed. He only perked up when at one point he demanded that DeSantis say he had done the right thing by not overturning the election.
And DeSantis had to begrudgingly admit that Okay, Mike, not subverting Democracy was good. And he looked like he was swallowing nails while he did it.
And this is where I will say, Trump was smart to not muck around in the rabble on that stage. He’s always done the best by not playing by the rules, by calling out the political process for the pathetic scaffolding of norms it is, all the while daring anyone to do something, anything to stop him. Enforce one rule, one norm, he seems to challenge. Everyone, politicians, journalists, commentators, and his own family, gingerly step around him, pretending as if Trump were anything but a raging id. But Republican voters like him because he stands for something, even if that something is the subversion of democracy. At least there is a personality. Watching the debate state on Wednesday, it’s not hard to understand why Republicans would prefer him, a man who is facing criminal charges, to that collection of cold noodles flopping around complaining about wokism.
These are not serious people. They are not saying serious things. Half of what they said didn’t make any sense. At one point, DeSantis talked about a woman surviving multiple abortion attempts and being left to die in a pan, and as hard as you try, this is not a real thing that really happens. Nor do these words have any real-world correlation. Ramaswamy at one point said the government was paying women to not live with men. I understand these are words and it’s the job of a journalist to write about them for the paper of record. But when we struggle to put sign where there is only signifier, we don’t convey meaning we create meaning where there is none. We create sense where there is only nonsense.
Vivek Ramaswamy did what he did best and said the most deranged things in order to grab the most attention. I had three glasses of wine and so basically, all I heard him say was that he wanted to use every natural resource and cause a civil war. But of course, because our media economy can’t call out a naked emperor when we see one, his comments were treated seriously by The New York Times and CNN. And the scraping sound you hear is the Overton window moved just a little bit to the right.
As always, read Alexandra Petri for the most informative analysis of the night.
Baier: Well, thanks for a normal evening.
DeSantis: Thank you for not making me talk!
Pence: This was far from the worst time I’ve had at a gathering of Republicans!
And Now For Something Good:
Huh. Being sued by the Department of Justice? It couldn’t happen to a worse person.
Texas is quietly softening its abortion bans. And I’m reluctant to list this as good news because people’s lives are still at risk even with the new loopholes. It’s not good. But it’s something.
This is a 12-minute video of a filmmaker’s grandmother’s salt and pepper shakers. And it’s so lovely and wonderful.
What I Am Drinking:
Starbucks unveiled its fall drinks today. So, screw your heat dome! Our corporate coffee gods have declared it fall. And by god, I will be behaving as such.
It’s Pumpkin Spiced season my friends. You might be sweating out the pours in your baby toes, but it’s time. It’s time for white girls in felt hats. It’s time for blankies on shoulders and plaid shirts and steamy mugs cupped in our hands. It’s time for boots. It’s time for suburban families to take pictures in golden fields in matching denim. FOR CHRISTMAS PICTURES!
This is a live shot of me in 93-degree weather after Starbucks declares it’s fall drink season.
I realize last week’s drinks section was about my love of the oat milk and brown sugar shaken espresso and now this week it’s about pumpkin spiced lattes. You might think I’m sponsored by Starbucks. You are wrong. I’m not nearly smart enough to negotiate a deal. And FWIW I love my local coffee shops a lot and am a frequent patron. You might be troubled by my “conspicuous consumption”, as one reader messaged me to say.
But look at the world will you? It’s the last dregs of August. It’s peak late summer depression season. And you are gonna begrudge me my freaky little drinks?! Begrudging freaky little drinks this economy?
Somedays it’s just the freaky little drinks that keep us going.
Also, Mr. President, welcome to Atlanta.