"Next time you come, you come heavy or not at all.”
So said Uncle Junior to Tony in Episode 4 of the first season of The Sopranos.
What does that line have to do with the debate last night? Hold your horses, yep I said that, I'll get around to it.
First of all, I did not enjoy the setup for the debate. I want my politicians standing up, pacing and looking like they are ready to pounce on their opponent. Sitting at a table with their hands folded, does not make for a riveting show.
Now I was watching the debate on CNN. I missed the explanation, so can someone tell me what the hell that flat line graph of Florida undecided voters was supposed to mean? I think it might have been a veiled reference to the age of the population of Boca...it seemed everyone was sleeping peacefully. Eh, I hope they were just sleeping.
While last night wasn't nearly as interesting as the week before, there were still a few fun quotes. Unfortunately, when the moderator ends the night with the best one...well maybe it's a good thing the election is only weeks away.
So let's just savor the few honorable mentions from last night.
"Syria is Iran's only ally in the Arab world. It's their route to the sea" Have you looked at a map at all?
"It still doesn't work" I believe the subject was MittMath, unless they were referencing the "yours is bigger than mine" quote from the last debate.
"Attacking me is not an agenda" But let me attack you and call it policy.
But of course the best line came from President Obama...
"We also have fewer horses and bayonets..."
So here we have a vision of unnaturally large horses, armed...ready for battle, or as Uncle June would say...Heavy
I give you Jethro Tull's "Heavy Horses"
"Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
An October's day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest seasoning
Last of the line at an honest day's toil
Turning the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils plunder.
The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie
With the Shire on his feathers floating
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
To bed on a warm straw coating.
Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on it's way.
Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
To keep the old line going.
And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood
Behind the young trees growing
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,
And your eighteen hands at the shoulder
And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
And the nights are seen to draw colder
They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power
Your noble grace and your bearing
And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
In the wake of the deep plough, sharing.
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
Across these acres glistening
Like dew on a carpet lawn
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
As the heavy horses thunder by
To wake the dying city
With the living horseman's cry
At once the old hands quicken ---
Bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---
Thrill to the sound of all
The heavy horses coming home."
Oh yeah, the best of the night. Bob Schieffer quoting his mother "Go Vote. It Makes You Feel Big And Strong."
Mom always knows best.