National Review
Lincoln–Douglas or Webster–Hayne, this was not. Joe Biden and Donald Trump lived down to expectations. Neither explained what he intends to do with power the next four years. Both were lost at sea when confronted with questions about the nation’s finances. They were livelier comparing golf handicaps. But Trump sounded like the Trump we’ve long known: blustering, bragging, and spinning fantasies for the marks of his sales pitches.
His lowest moments came with his voluminous baggage: One does not want to start a sentence with: “Number one, I didn’t have sex with a porn star . . .” But he drew blood with his visceral disgust at Biden’s policies on the border and late-term abortion, and by demanding about Afghanistan, “Did you fire anybody?” There’s no polite way to say it: Biden sounded weak, wheezy, decrepit, and overwhelmed. His best moments came when he got indignant, but even then, his mantra of “The idea!” got almost as old as he sounded. Democrats can scarcely hide their sense of panic and dread.
