Late October Self-Discipline

I did my duty last night.  I mortified the flesh.

I got home late and, as I stood in the kitchen, packing my lunch for today, I turned on the Magic Talking Satan Box (or, as some would say, the television).

There, the flickering phosphors revealed the two-dimensional likenesses of a couple of one-dimensional men.  One is Prexy, and apparently wishes to go on being such; the other desires to displace the first.

I logged approximately five minutes of "debate" time.  During this time, I learned that either Amur'ka "stands with" Israel, in some absolute and unconditional fashion, or that Amur'ka is Israel.  No doubt the distinction is somehow crucial, to the finely-calibrated mind.

I also learned that it's important what you do with your mouth, while your opponent is speaking (but you're still being shown, via split-screen).  What you do is, you assume a  sort of facial rictus that both these blots on the landscape would no doubt call a "smile."  In the one case, it's an entitled sort of smirk; in the other, it's a coprophagous stunt with the lips and teeth that reminds me of the frozen snarl on the mouthparts of the road-killed possum that I got too good a look at while riding my bicycle last weekend.

That was enough.  I have now absolutely fulfilled my obligation to duh-mocracy for 2012.