I strongly suspect that 20, 30, 50 years from now last night’s debate will be remembered best for … cats. For a 79 year-old American presidential candidate angrily asserting that he saw something “on TV” … about something on Facebook ... where someone was talking about something someone’s daughter somewhere heard … from a friend … that might have happened; namely that “migrant” darkies in Ohio are eating other people’s dogs and cats.

Jeeezus … .

Whatever else can be said conclusively about the face-off between Trump and Kamala Harris, including the indisputable facts that she was prepared, poised and looked presidential while he was, as usual, glum, angry and frequently incoherent, its that Trump’s act never plays well outside the thick MAGA bubble. By the time the 90 minutes were up and Trump had done his usual dystopian riffing, a lot of people other than just smug elitists like me, feet up on the ottoman, sipping a beverage, had to look around and ask, “What the hell country is he talking about?”. The United States? Today? A country in “tremendous decline”, in an absolutely miserable condition, “Venezuela on steroids”, overrun by “millions of hardened criminals”, with prices up “70-80-90-%” and “nuclear war” being the next sound we hear?

Good god, man. Seek help. Take the meds Melania is pushing on you. (Ok Donny, be careful with that. Have someone else test them first, maybe Eric, because with you and that pre-nup you gotta be careful.) But good lord, talk about hysterical. Just what everyone wants in a commander-in-chief.

We all know that his fear and horror shtick plays with the sad, low information goobers and goob-ettes following his rallies around the country. But out in public? in the real world? In front of millions of people who, correctly, think a guy ranting about “migrants” eating your cat is probably having a stroke? It just sounds … you know … weird.

By the time ABC cut to a commercial at the one hour mark, the vote was in. Harris cleaned Trump’s clock. With remarkable ease. Another example of what being a good student, preparing for the job at hand and having a full understanding of who exactly your opponent is can do for you.

I have no idea what this smackdown will do for “undecided” voters. But Democratic strategists have to have revitalized confidence that Trump has no other act to work with. He’s got nothing but same very old, very tired, very weird shtick. Period. There is no policy to jab back with. Asked about the nine years he’s been promising an alternative to Obamacare, “in the coming weeks” he said what? That he has, “a concept of a plan”? What in god’s name does that even mean?

It’s no wonder Harris challenged him to another debate before last night’s match. The man remains the preposterous, incompetent fool he’s always been. Out in a farm field with flags a-flyin’ and red hats a-bobbin’ the crowd is thrilled to believe Democrats are killing babies after birth. But in front of cameras beaming him back to people who can read and know the world isn’t flat, that Ted Nugent isn’t the greatest patriot and musical act of our era and that they aren’t barricading their front doors against a zombie horde of Haitian cat eaters … he sounds 101% batshit.

I plead with some Nobel-winning behavioral scientist/social psychologist to explain to me how 70 million people living in the United States in the 21st century can believe anything he says, including the part about eating cats.