“What happened?” they cry in disbelief, “What did I just witness?” Unwilling even to process, much less believe what their eyes had just seen. That the President, mister POTUS himself, much storied debater of constitutional law, with a silver tongue and a steel-trap mind for details and insights had just fallen on his spear in a debate with his Republican opponent..

       Yes, the mighty Obama had struck out.

       And their eyes had seen what their hearts can’t accept. That their president, the last man standing as a bulwark against the hordes of right-wing, pseudo-Christian, tea-partying, homophobic fanatics threatening everything they believe in had fallen asleep on guard duty. So emboldening his opponent as to completely undo the advantage he previously held in the race.

       As stink bombs go, this was a real stinker!

       Ahh, the lies Obama allowed to go unchallenged, the weapons he refused, or forgot, to employ. Weapons like women’s rights, Medicare, or Romney’s “47%” comments. But worst of the bunch was Obama’s inability to stand up for himself. He stood there smiling at Romney’s lies like he was afraid to embarrass his opponent by remarking on inaccuracies or mistruths. Where was the Obama who debated Hillary four years ago? That Obama was too hungry to let his opponent get away with anything. This Obama was like a sixth grader called in to pinch hit for David Ortiz.

       Next time, we want David Ortiz.

       And never more was a hit needed. It didn’t need to be a home run; a double would have done just as well. But to let Romney hit one out of the park…!

       “Fraud!” cried the maddened throngs of supporters. “This is not the Obama we knew!” Nor was it a Romney they recognized either.   This Romney pretended to care about them, their futures, their aspirations. Pell grants for all!, double Medicare if they need it!, and tax cuts for everyone! 

       And our mighty Obama, rather than calling out his adversary’s lies, just stood there smiling broadly. Perhaps thinking about the anniversary dinner awaiting him after the debate.

       “Oh well!” the fans cry, “There’s always the next debate.”

       “But will the Mighty Obama even show up?” they worry. “How can we be sure it won’t be the sixth grader all over again?”

         Yes indeed, how can they be sure?

       Oh, somewhere in this troubled land the sun is shining bright. Millionaires taking over, shifting to the right. And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout. But there’ll be no joy in Mudville—till dreaded Romney is struck out!