I dunno why I subjected myself to that. Maybe it was just an excuse to play boozeword bingo.

I might've dozed off at the end, but I coulda sworn Ronny D closed out with something about having a 6-foot 5, 3-year old kid named Mulligan who lived in Joe Biden's basement. The mind tosses some bizarre word salad when faced with overwhelming inanity, I dunno. Pretty sure I heard him threaten to invade Mexico, at some point.

I would never stoop to Trumpian schoolyard name calling, but I did think it was funny when Mom messaged me saying, "Dence and Robosmarmy would make excellent odd-couple running mates."

This was followed by an odd conversation wherein I defended Chris Christie, saying he was indeed looking relatively thin, healthy and sane, despite his worryingly high level of spittle.

Mom and I both agreed Vivek should now chase his debate performance with some proper downers, ASAP.

Burgum naturally won the debate on account of having the least amount of botox injected into his forehead.

Would I qualify as a TDS-inflamed anti-accelerationist if I said I hope the Republicans pass over Don RICO, Saint Alligator-eyes, RoboJesus, Vivarin, Gov. Whatshisname, Great Scott, and Gov. Whosdat and pick Jersey and Ms. NeoCon? Probably, I guess. There's only just so much crazy one can tolerate.