Clinton v. Trump: between a rock and Krakatoa

Perhaps not quite. But America certainly got a taste of disaster, or at least the potential of it, on Monday night. Oh America, America — look where your infatuation with the risqué has brought you now.

Between a rock and the heart of Kraka-freaking-toa, that is.

Look, I’m not exactly Hillary’s number one fan. Not even her number two fan. I don’t strut around with a “Hillary 2016” pin latched to my chest. I wouldn’t start furious Facebook fights with strangers in the comment section of some irrelevant dank meme (you know that’s how 90 percent of them start).

But to have her debate Trump — that insult to oompa-loompas everywhere? It’s enough to offend a goldfish after terrifying it.

It was surreal. It was like watching the rehearsal of a satire piece or the going-ons of some strange alternative dystopian reality, but with the horrifying gut-wrench reminder that this was all happening here and now.

A typical debate rundown: Achieving prosperity, security, economy. Except there was nothing typical about this debate, if you could even call it that. Donald started off seemingly repressed, trying to keep it “presidential,” whatever that means. He went straight to how jobs are “fleeing the country” and backpacking to — who would’ve guessed — Mexico. But his attempt at tampering down his own tantrums didn’t last long.

Donald, if you observe him not even all that closely, has primarily two methods of speaking, either in the shortest phrases English allows for bare coherency or without the concept of a period in mind. He adores the Obnoxious Interjection. For example, “That makes me smart,” after Hillary just mentioned how he hasn’t paid federal income taxes in years.

Or “That’s called business,” after Hillary discussed Donald’s rooting on the housing market collapse and his subsequent exploitation of it. And the ever-so-striking, “I do not say that” in reference to his actual quote that China is hoaxing us all about climate change.

There are far too many examples of his interruptions — 55 according to Time — to even list all of them. But what else did Donald do besides interrupt? He certainly didn’t discuss policy because he’d have to have some to discuss.

Concerning the things he did say (they are admittedly continuously concerning), Donald was a tornado of past and present contradictions. He denied supporting the Iraq war, cajoling every single American to personally call up Sean Hannity to confirm his denial, while also lamenting that “we should’ve taken the oil,” (an international crime), and incorrectly blaming President Obama for the creation of ISIS.

He promoted stop and frisk, causing Lester Holt to bring up the fact that the policy was  grounded in racial profiling and therefore was ruled unconstitutional. He said, and yes, this is real, “Our airports are like, from a third world country,” and the even more palatable, “we’ve become a third world country.”

Of course, context is everything. Dear Donald was discussing the terrible disrepair of our infrastructure and how the government doesn’t do anything but rack up debt — and, oh, Donald’s tax plan? Cut taxes on the wealthy. Not that he pays them anyway.

Hillary headed into the maelstrom with a calm and composure that even Jesus would commend. What’s more is that she kept that composure even when the monkey started throwing his you-know-what toward her. Even if you hate Hillary to the depths of hell, you’ve got to give it to her, she’s got willpower.

She tested out a couple of vague policies at the beginning, mentioning modernizing the electric grid, utilizing solar panels, promoting the creation of ten million more new jobs in clean energy and employing a “special prosecutor” to enforce trade deals. But of course, who was she going to tackle the nuances and complexities of policy with?

Her responses, both to Lester and to Donald, soon retained the basic format of generalities, a few choice numbers and statistics and the abyss-wide contrast between her and the toupéed Annoying Orange on the right.

To put it lightly, they took on the inevitably lesser-evil flavor her campaign has been laced with. But then, of course, what kind of standard is Donald? He is the ultimate incomparable. Let’s be real: Anyone who gives a rat’s cracker about policy already read the .coms. And most of the people watching, well, spectator sports rarely have fans switching teams.

Hillary had her moments, her waves in a sea that went entirely her direction anyway. Her one-line zingers like “He talks about his secret plan [for defeating ISIS] — the only secret is that he has no plan” peppered the night oh-so-satisfyingly.

Apart from the spice, she held herself accountable for the email debacle, she demonstrated a willingness to stand by her proposed income tax increase on the wealthy and she addressed race in multiple contexts, recognizing that “implicit bias is a problem for everyone.”

In the end, Hillary summarized it best: “A man who can be provoked by a tweet should not have his fingers anywhere near the nuclear codes.”