They put sand in his shoes
Trump says they tampered with his microphone.
“I had a problem with a microphone that didn’t work,” he said on “Fox and Friends.” “My microphone was terrible. I wonder, was it set up that way on purpose? My microphone, in the room they couldn’t hear me, you know, it was going on and off. Which isn’t exactly great. I wonder if it was set up that way, but it was terrible.”
“It was on and off, and it was much lower than hers. I don’t want to believe in conspiracy theories, of course, but it was much lower than hers and it was crackling, and she didn’t have that problem,” he added. “That to me was a bad problem, you have a bum mic, it’s not exactly good.”
Is that right? I could hear him perfectly well – he was quite loud in fact. I could hear him the many times he interjected and interrupted. I could hear his “That’s called being smart” when Clinton pointed out he hadn’t paid any income tax in the two years for which we have the information. I could hear his “That’s good business” when Clinton pointed out that he rejoiced at the slump because it meant he could buy up properties cheaply. I could hear him clearly when he failed to complete sentence after sentence after sentence.
Trump also insisted that he does not have a cold or allergies when asked whether he was sniffling during the debate.
So it was coke?
This is so very telling.
First, of course, is the fact that this means he knows he lost the debate, and is desperately trying to find a reason to blame someone else for that.
Second, it shows his mindset–he jumps to childish pranks because that’s what he would do if given the opportunity. It’s all projection with lizard-brains like himself.
Finally, though, the ‘broken microphone’ means he gets to do the exact same thing he tried to do during the debate itself–claim he said things that nobody else heard, and then just attribute that to the mic being broken.
Layers and layers of lies and delusion.
Coke would explain so much!
I was waiting to see who or what he would blame for his poor performance.
Coke! It fits. The coke fiend’s logic: don’t prepare, just blast through on a wave of self regard and stream of consciousness. It worked for Mork from Ork, and Freud, and Sherlock Holmes. Trump was coked up to the gills. This is a fact. It is truth. It’s a yuge truth. A bit sad, though, that even completely yippered as he was, he could only manage such a low-energy debate. No stamina! Trump should release his drug tests.