Democrats Debate: Boooooring

By Michael J. Ellis, With Additional Reporting by Nathaniel Ward and Scott Glabe | Wednesday, January 14, 2004

Though it has yet to begin officially, the seemingly endless Democratic primary season continued with the fifth of six "official" Democratic debates on December 9th at the University of New Hampshire. Contributor Nathaniel Ward and I did our best to breathe some life into a circus of rehearsed answers and lunatic candidates who just don't go away.

After an hour drive down to the scenic UNH campus, Nathaniel and I picked up our credentials and took our seats in the filing room. After viewing several commercials for denture fixatives and adult diapers, we settled in to watch the debate on the big screen at the front of the room, the nine wannabe Presidents arrayed before us.

On the far left stood the Reverend and Saturday Night Live personality Al Sharpton, mullet robust as ever. In a riposte to what he saw as cronyism, the Rev lambasted former vice president Al Gore's endorsement of Howard Dean: "I know that Governor Dean and Al Gore love the Internet; www.bossism doesn't work on my computer!" he exclaimed. Perhaps the good Reverend should have tried adding ".com" to that, and he would have found, as our intrepid researches have, a nice definition of the term. Though this was only Sharpton's second time in New Hampshire in 2003, he apparently had visited the Almighty more often, as he asserted with certainty that God "is not a registered member of the right wing of the Republican party." The Lord was subsequently purged from voter rolls in 27 states.

Next to Sharpton was Wesley Clark. The general, still unsure of his Iraq policy, managed to hold everything but his mouth still while he answered questions at the debate. Representative Dick Gephardt, who stood to Clark's left, spoke cryptically about his strategy for success in the general election. "In order to beat George Bush, you've got to beat him all across the top of this country," he said.

Looking like a forlorn teenage lover dumped by her boyfriend, Senator Joe Lieberman was still smarting from former partner Gore's treachery. Despite his aching heart, Lieberman remained the most reasonable of the bunch.

Perennial eyesore Dennis Kucinich took his place, ironically, in the middle. The elf-like Congressman, whose head appeared to have a small rodent upon it, was up to his usual cockamamie antics.

Perched on the opposite side of the moderators from Kucinich, Howard Dean looked comfortable in his newfound role as frontrunner, content to know that, with Al Gore behind him, his electoral prospects had strengthened further.

Though its owner was agitated that Dean had usurped his place in the spotlight and at the top of New Hampshire polling, Massachusetts Senator John F. Kerry's $150 haircut remained cool and collected. Hip to street lingo despite his patrician upbringing, the ketchup scion berated the Bush administration for "dissing" the world community on global warming.

Former Senator Carol Moseley Braun hoped "to take the 'Men Only' sign off the White House door." Unfortunately for the Ambassatrix, the only time she'll see the White House door is on the guided tour.

For his take on White House redecorating, Senator John Edwards wanted to remove the "For Sale" sign, apparently to replace it with a "Sold! To the Trial Lawyers" placard. The North Carolina Senator was glowing throughout the evening, following Kerry's effusion that "I love John Edwards."

Moderator Ted Koppel mistook himself for a participant throughout, sparking criticism from candidates and media alike. Trying to provoke a reaction from the peloton of candidates embarrassed by Howard Dean's rise to frontrunner status, Koppel began by asking the candidates if they thought the former Vermont governor could defeat President Bush next November. Dean alone proudly raised his hand, grinning maniacally. Koppel began sparring with Kucinich after asking the congressman—and the equally irrelevant Reverend Sharpton and Ambassador Braun—"when we can expect one or more of the three of you to drop out?" Caught in a spirit of equality, Koppel didn't reserve his criticism for the joke candidates. "Just so that our three friends here don't think I'm only picking on them, you're not doing terrific in the polls, either," he informed a surprised John Edwards.

When the main festivities concluded, the candidates made their way to the "spin room," each trailed by rabid reporters, obsequious aides, and overanxious security guards. Nathaniel and I first attempted to interview Clark but came away with only some C-SPAN face time as the general waved a diminutive American flag in front of us. Our attempts to question Lieberman were as fruitless as our efforts to discover where the two buxom UNH coeds accompanying him were headed after the debate.

Abandoning the serious candidates to serious reporters, Nathaniel and I approached Congressman Kucinich after noticing that journalists were outnumbered by mulleted supporters brandishing large signs. Curious about his proposal for a federal Department of Peace, I queried whether he would support the establishment of accompanying Departments of Truth and Love. "I don't support bombing people in our countries that don't attack us," he nonsensically replied. "Would you support creating a federal Department of Hate?" "No, sir," I responded as I scurried away, his press secretary in hot pursuit.

While waiting to speak with Crossfire icon Tucker Carlson, Nathaniel and I stumbled upon folks wearing T-shirts emblazoned with "Dinner for America." Hoping to spark youth discussion about politics, these supporters of the fictional "Jim Dinner" purported to have sufficient tables and chairs to host a 50,000-person dinner party on site. I challenged this seemingly ludicrous assertion but was told I could only see the trucks if I could find 49,998 others.

We escaped these head cases to chat with the bow-tied Carlson. I inquired what he thought of the Confederate flag incident at Dean's Dartmouth speech in November. While insisting that the governor had put the Battle Flag snafu behind him, Carlson maintained that the protest was emblematic of Dean's continued trouble garnering support from rural white males. As our conversation came to a close, I told Carlson I was from The Dartmouth Review. "That's funny!" he guffawed.

As the spin room emptied, we cornered Ambassatrix Braun in order to follow up on a lead supplied by now-incarcerated Republican presidential candidate Robert Haines. "People have accused Wesley Clark of shaking hands like a woman," I began, concealing my source, "As the only woman in the race, are you offended by this?" Moseley Braun was visibly taken aback, her bewilderment captured mercifully sans audio for a national audience on C-SPAN. "I shake hands like a woman!" was her flabbergasted retort. "Do you approve of his handshake?" I responded, unsatisfied by her answer. "He has a very nice handshake," she concluded, brushing me aside in a vain search for serious reporters to cover her joke candidacy.

Democrats Debate: Boooooring

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