Back during the 18 years or so we think of now as The Sixties, a particular form of avant garde theater was briefly all the the rage. It consisted of people living their "real" lives onstage. Sitting around, reading, watching TV, eating, sleeping, fucking, bathing, even taking a dump. All before an audience, usually small, drifting in and out of the hall. I am reminded of this by the GOP debates. The sheer boringness — and boorishness — of them is overshadowed by their granularity. We seeing these people up close, and pretty close to naked.
Probably a better analogy for these debates than theatrical naturalism, though, is one most people can relate to directly. Few of us have ever fucked or farted on stage but most of us have probably had a bitter, vicious argument with our significant other while getting dressed to go out. Then, raging thoughts of divorce or homicide ebb slowly in the car on the way to the restaurant or party. Faces that short minutes before were set in a rictus of fury soften into bland friendliness as we greet our hosts at their door. So yeah, that.
Watching these GOPeople bashing each other on stage, slipping knives between ribs, all while struggling to maintain a friendly, alert and interested face for the audience ... well, it's just a pleasure to see them smiling and shaking hands among the audience after the show. Surely, surely these candidates were just asking themselves, "Is she really that bat-shit crazy?" or "That's a preposterous claim — I'd like to see him slip that past the Supreme Court!"
As their devotees subsequently see these people behaving themselves on down the campaign trail, smiling and gracious before the microphones, won't they remember them empurpled by stifled hostility? Or will they see the transient cloak of civility as a virtue and the knife fights of the past as a sign of strength. Probably, the latter.
Except for Rick Perry sputtering about the option of having options regarding the options. That is a memory with legs.
