Imagine What Might Have Been If Candy Hadn’t Thrown Her Man Obama the Lifeline

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Oh, if only….

It was such an incredible moment.  Mitt Romney had just turned like a laser on Obama demanding that he clarify his claim that the morning after four Americans were killed in Libya, he, the president, proclaimed it terrorism.  Obama backed away, his tail between his legs (see yesterday’s canine-themed post), made a feeble attempt to meet Mitt’s gaze, and whimpered, pleaded with the Governor to move on.  But alpha male Mitt didn’t move on, he stayed on point, and he kept that laser trained on his opponent.  Such an explosive moment.  Historic, actually.  And we all waited to see just how it would play out.  How would this president, so obviously trapped in his own web, wiggle away.

But then moderator Candy threw her Obama the lifeline, proclaiming at that most electifying moment to a national audience that (and I paraphrase here), “no, really, he did call it terrorism, Mr. Romney.  Really he did!  I know he did,” even though that national audience knew, as Governor Romney said last night, that it took this president two weeks, after a failed campaign to link the violence to a YouTube video, to label the Libya atrocities terrorism.  By throwing herself into that moment, Candy shattered the exquisite tension, and handed Obama the lifeline he so desperately needed.

When it became clear to him that Candy was there to rescue him, a grateful Obama pleaded with her to read the transcript (just why did she have the transcript sitting there in front of her?  And how did Obama know she had it?).   Realizing her error, Candy scrambled to control the damage, stuttering and stammering in an appeal to both men.  Meanwhile, a grateful Obama reveled in his discovery of yet another woman who had stepped in to protect him, another woman throwing herself on a sword for him, another woman behind whom he could hide — a pattern that is becoming all too common with this man.

Most of us know what happened then.  That moment would become a debate all its own, as pundits have spent this entire day after chewing on what Candy did or didn’t do, whether she was justified in doing it, and just what Obama really meant in the Rose Garden that morning in the wake of the murder of four Americans before he jetted off to a fundraiser in Vegas.  Candy herself has admitted “I blew it,” but the leftists have since circled their wagons around her and her dear leader, proclaiming them both heroes in the war for America’s heart and soul.

And me?  I’ll just forever wonder what might have been.  I have a pretty good idea.  At that moment, the president had already backed down, cornering himself on his little stool looking like a frightened deer to Mitt Romney’s laser-like glare.  He had already begged Governor Romney to move on.  For the second time in his life he was being confronted by reality (the first time being the first debate a week-and-a-half ago), his opponent refusing to let him wiggle away, his opponent demanding an answer to him and a national audience.  I like to think he was about to burst in to tears.  But we’ll never know, will we?

 


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