sinister doc v stoned robot

Three quarters of the way into the televised Senate debate, the camera narrowed in on John Fetterman, the greying-goateed, muscled Democrat candidate, stuffed awkwardly into a suit, slightly yellowish skin tone, sweat sheening his shaved pate.

“Mr Fetterman,” the off-camera moderator said. “To return to the question you haven’t really cleared up, you say you support fracking but in 2018 you said you were against it, always have been. Can you explain the discrepancy?” There was a long pause. Was he about to deliver a zinger? He looked for a couple of seconds, seeming wildly confused. “I, uh, support fracking and I would like to clear… to… I support fracking and… I support fracking.”

The Harrisburg Democrats — about 20 of them, sitting around six small, round banquet tables — had been waiting for this moment, but not in a good way. Their candidate sounded like a bad robot, a malfunctioning robot. A stoned robot. They let out a few quiet sighs. They were barely audible, but they’d been fairly subdued from the get-go. They were out on a weeknight to watch their candidate get shellacked. No one had expected him to win. They might have thought — in the weeks leading up to this, with the Republicans now drawing level — that things couldn’t get worse. On a Tuesday night in the ‘burbs, over Bud lights and Philly cheesesteaks, they were being proven wrong.