The only dynamic in the Democratic debate last night that exceeded expectations was the degree to which Edwards aligned himself with Obama against Clinton. That tactic, as stated, was certainly expected, and even previewed by Edwards from Thursday night on, but last night he pounded it with delightful verve.
"I didn't hear these kinds of attacks from Senator Clinton when she was ahead," Edwards said in a flanking maneuver on Obama's behalf. "Every time he speaks out for change, every time I fight for change, the forces of status quo are going to attack -- every single time."
Bill Richardson characterized the staged spat as more heated than hostage negotiations, which was funny in a Rodney King sort of way -- hey, Bill just wants to get along with somebody, anybody, who might be hiring -- but my guess is that Edwards is merely, smartly, and already positioning himself for the number two slot.
Given the ridiculously compressed primary schedule, there was an indefinable sense in the air that this thing is already over, at least as far as Edwards is concerned.
Which is what made the dynamics in the Republican debate of more interest.
Romney was badly and probably mortally wounded last week, but not by the heir apparent, as was the Democratic case. His problem is with the man who neither won, placed or showed in Iowa, but now appears to be the GOP Establishment's newest and oldest hope against the evangelically pixilated and populistically regressive Huckabee.
One could almost see the blood in the water and smell the scent of Romney's political death as McCain was joined by his fellow but less hopeful attackers to finish him off. Even Fred Who spoke on occasion.
But what nailed it, I think, was that the orchestrated attacks on Romney's ideological elasticity were underscored by humor, more so than policy pummelings. And when a candidate becomes more of a public joke than an existential threat, he's cooked.
"We disagree on a lot of issues," quipped McCain, "but I agree you are the candidate of change."
"Which one?" was Huckabee's rapier thrust at Romney when the latter chastised him: "Governor, don’t try to characterize my position." And best zinger of the night went to Giuliani, who dryly noted that St. Ronald "would be in one of Mitt’s negative commercials" with respect to immigrant amnesty. Poor Mitt.
The only substantive differences arose from Ron Paul's hopeless attempts to explain the international facts of life to the hyper-jingoistic country clubbers, who alternated in their responses from feigned outrage to smug smiles.
Poor Mitt, hell. Poor Paul. He must have felt like Copernicus at a papal court of inquiry. Everyone knows that we and our wants and our needs are at the center of the universe, and all others in the orbital scheme of things must bow to the inexorable laws of U.S. supremacy.
To even question such received dogma is to cast oneself as worse than a heretic -- it's just plain unAmerican, according to the new and revised editions of the U.S. Constitution, the Declaration of Independence and Eisenhower Republicanism.
It's a pity that Paul's domestic views are as medieval as his opponents' suicidal interventionism.
He could have founded a seriously tenacious wing of humility among the Republican rank and file, but his bizarre ravings about the "monetary system" and simplistic advocacy of stripping a complex nation of 300 million of its chief means of fiscal support serve only to marginalize him to flash-in-the-pan third-party status.
Nevertheless it was Paul's unwelcomed interventionism into the GOP club's mindless militarism über alles that singularly made the evening's fare worth viewing.
Because Mitt's ruthless molestation seemed to pronounce that this race, too, is all but over.