(The Guardian) -- What the hell happened on Saturday night?
The umpteenth (or penultiumpteenth) Republican debate was an ecstasy of noise in which everything was indistinguishable. We are long past you-can’t-do-that-on-television. We are long past manufactured controversy. We are fully into clown slapfight.
You should be forgiven if you can remember almost nothing of this evening, or if you do but cannot make heads or tails of your own memories.
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If Jack Donaghy were real, he’d brand Saturday’s debate the Third Kind of Noise: the first two kinds of noise are meant to turn your brain off, and the third is uncategorizable by a rational mind.