We all knew that Lester Holt would never ask Hillary about Benghazi, bout obstruction of justice in destroying emails after a subpoena had been issued demanding they be produced, about classified documents left out in the open for all to see, about the Clinton Foundation or about the Pay to Play selling of the United States State Department. We knew Lester Holt would ask Donald Trump about his tax returns and about his supposed birther sentiments and why he says such mean things about women, as if any of them had any relevance to the issue of which of the two is best qualified to be president. We knew it, Trump’s staff knew it, and Trump knew it. His staff prepared a quiver full of sharpened arrows to fire at her, and he was prepped and re-prepped in preparation for the questions, warned repeatedly not to get tangled up in the weeds designed to hurt him, but the minute the questions arose he forgot all the planning and grabbed the tar baby, spending most of his time in the debate defending things that need not have been defended. And so, having grabbed the tar baby he never mentioned Benghazi or the Clinton Foundation or any of the many criminal activities that would have nailed her to the floor. And at the end of the wasted ninety minutes Trump’s quiver was still full of arrows, with an untouched and untroubled Hillary smiling and waving. I found myself wishing they had sent up Newt Gingrich as pinch-hitter. Had they done so the only quivering would have been done by the body on the floor.

He could have nailed her to the floor
He could have ended it for sure
But no, the baby made of tar
Enveloped him too long by far
The arrows sharpened by his staff
No stone unturned on his behalf
The bow of yew so sweetly hewn
He picked it up and laid it doon
The tide not taken at the flood
Is often paid for with the blood
Of those who fight for honor’s sake
And broken arrows sorrows wake