We here at CFR headquarters watched most of the New York City mayoral debate this evening. May we suggest that New York City save a zillion dollars and just call off the election and get on with the inauguration already? Good God, we definitely want our guy to win, but we’d also like something of a contest, please. Must Joe Lhota, the Republican nominee down by a staggering 44 points in the latest poll, placidly agree with the Democratic nominee, Bill de Blasio, about absolutely everything? We know the media is reporting otherwise, but compared to the rough-and-tumble of legendary New York brass-knuckle politics, even heated arguments between these men feels like choruses of Kumbaya, only louder.
And the questions! Not only do we think that CBS Channel 2’s remarkably fast assessment of its own debate was suspiciously full of spin, we don’t understand why Maurice DuBois’ questions tended so weirdly toward the small-bore. Shall we keep touristy chairs in touristy Times (and Herald) Square? Shall we allow outer-borough green cabs to continue to be (and, probably, to be green)? Hey! Terrorism could still come back, people. 9/11 could happen again. We’re progressives and we want our guy to win, as we said. But the six-foot-five frontrunner seemed small. Damn.
When the topic of the inextinguishably efficient Metropolitan Transit Authority came up, we sat up and leaned in as if Sheryl Sandberg was right next to us, prodding. Lhota, after all, headed up that agency for a year.
Even that segment was lame.
We didn’t watch the last debate but we heard de Blasio played it like Muhammad Ali in his prime against Droopy Dog on Xanax. Well, this time de Blasio was measured to a point of somnambulism and Lhota was still Droopy Dog on Xanax. The man even blinks slowly.
Over and out.