When Barack Obama suggested Thursday that he doesn’t see any point in having another debate with Hillary Clinton, few were surprised, given his poor performance in Philly.  It is even less surprising when viewed in the larger context of Obama’s campaign. When Obama complains that “it took us 45 minutes before we even started talking — until we started talking about a single issue that matters to the American people,”

That’s how The Club for Growth touts their post.   Holy. Mother. of God.  That’s like 45-minute live version of Billy Thorpe’s Children of the Sun!

Witnesses who found Hamad said the man had duct tape on his face, and his hands were tied. Police have called the death suspicious. Thank God we have experts for this sort of thing, though personally I keep duct tape on hand just in case I come across a corpse. (h/t Reynolds)

Anybody seen our darling Darleen? Why do I ask?  In order to find out.

on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds. I wants to make Glenn tear out his hairses for not having beat me to it. Image not photoshopped

Jules has a round-up of the premier whiners, and dubs the fallout “Debategate.”  Personally, I think the -gate suffix has become terribly debased over time, but that’s just swimming against the tide.  With a cigarette in my mouth, and an anchor attached to my dick. So . . . what’s your favorite “-gate”? (h/t Reynolds)

Her heart’s in the right place when she says that we ought to revoke Carter’s passport, but this is bad policy.  I think we ought to let him go there, and let Hamas keep him.  I know it’s cruel to Hamas, but international relations isn’t bean-bag, you know. I do agree that we ought to de-fund the Carter Center and let Syria pick up the tab for the whole thing. (h/t Hot

Dick Polman, a national political columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer, reviews Barack Obama’s debate performance: Just how bad was Barack Obama’s debate performance last night? Not as bad as Britney Spears’ song-and-dance routine at the MTV Awards. Not as bad as Bill Buckner’s legendary error during the ’86 World Series. Not as bad as Bob Dylan’s music during his God phase. Not as bad as John Travolta’s Scientology cinema experiment

Bartleby: “I would prefer not to prefer. Or else, maybe some Gino’s pizza rolls. “Either way. I’m easy like that.”

Okay, here’s the deal. This beautiful woman is going eventually to be the most important female commentator on the news anywhere. I’m thinking that at her present age, a guy 3 or 4 years her elder is likely to be about her level of maturity. Fun, challenging, intelligent, ambitious, keen sense of the absurd, willing to put up with her independence and open-ness. If you haven’t seen the B-Cast lately,