The Handshake That May Have Turned An Election

In the run up to the Harris-Trump debate, I wrote an article listing the risk/benefit of a potential candidate handshake following the initial introductions. The article was based on three different possible scenarios and their most likely outcomes.

Well, Kamala Harris showed loud and clear why she’s a serious presidential candidate, and I’m nothing more than a loud mouth Mick with a platform. Because she turned the logic on its head.

The normal procedure is for the two candidates to enter from opposite sides of the stage with their hands extended, shake hands, and retreat for their podiums to begin the debate. But not this time.

It was clear from the moment the names were announced, and the candidates walked out on to the stage that Traitor Tot had no intention of shaking Harris’s hand, not without hand sanitizer on his podium. Hell, he might get cooties. He shuffled out slowly and was about to head for his podium.

Not to be, fool. Instead, in an unexpected power move, Harris strode purposefully across the stage, her hand and arm fully extended, while saying loud enough for the audience to hear, I’m Kamala Harris.

Then she did the unthinkable. She invaded Trump’s space. While Trump shrank back and attempted to retreat, Harris stalked him across the stage and literally forced that goddamn handshake.

And here’s the critical thing to note. Find a picture of that handshake, and look at it carefully. You’ll see Harris striding forward, arm extended, while Trump shrinks back with his elbow bent, his own space. That’s the subliminal kill shot right there. Harris is striding forward, hand fully extended in a power move, and Trump is shrinking back, sticking his hand out in an almost defensive move, his elbow bent subservient. And most importantly, all of this is taking place in on his side of the stage.

That was basically the end of the story right there. Trump was clearly horrified. Not only had he been forced to shake hands with an uppity black woman, but he had to suffer the indignity of doing it in his own personal space. Trump’s teeny little head exploded, and he never recovered. He was no longer the Alpha male on that stage.

And once Harris had invaded that sacred sanctuary, she kept pressing the advantage. I’m not going to rewrite my previous article here, but she kept him off balance and on the defensive all night long.

And faced with that discombobulation, Trump lost it. Not with a volcanic outburst, but more like a small child who suddenly can’t find his mother in the aisle at the Walmart.

And Trump couldn’t recover. And the more disjointed and rambling his responses became, the more insultingly patronizing Harris became. Correcting him as if he were a wayward child, and rubbing his nose in his obvious lies and obfuscation. At one point she pityingly said, You seem to be having some trouble trying to make a point.

And all Trump could do was to grind his teeth in frustration. He was a whipped dog. And don’t for one moment think that even Trump’s base supporters weren’t disappointed in Trump’s complete inability to put this female usurper in her place.

This was finally the 78 year old Trump. A tired, rambling, largely incoherent old man who couldn’t string two cogherent sentences together. With a powerful, successful black woman lookinhg pityingly at him, knowing she was in complete control. 

I don’t know what kind of a bounce Harris is going to get from this debate, but one thing I do know. Trump is a beaten man. His ego shield is irretrievably blown. And if he has a rematch with Harris, she’ll kick his ass again. Because he’s a tired old man with no answers, and she’s at the top of her game. Imagine that. Something as simple as a handshake deciding the result of a presidential election.

I thank you for the privilege of your time.

Support the site with a subscription today and see no more ads!

Go Ad-free Now!