T-minus 3 hours and 15 minutes until The Debates, in which a talented politician, law professor, foreign policy expert and judicially-aware candidate for Vice President will attempt to discuss issues of national importance with an eggplant tactfully disguised as someone we should trust with the security of the entire fucking planet. Expectations couldn’t be lower, as is evidenced by The Mainstream Media™ saying things like “Expectations couldn’t be lower” every three minutes, which basically puts them in the tank for Sarah Palin. But I’m going to Go Out On A Limb, crank up Elvis Dingeldein’s Fucking Prescient Guess-O-Faction Machine, and make a few predictions as to how this all goes down tonight.

• The lack of a circus atmosphere with insane cheering and chanting and long breaks to ejaculate over the mantra Drill Baby Drill and then hoot-n-holler when Palin says something these assholes like will COMPLETELY take the piss out of her smirky, cocksure, Ain’t I A Bitch attitude. This is not a prepared speech with a henpecked crowd of dopey half-drunk rednecks, and the stunned sound of crickets rarely lends itself to awe-inspiring gestalt. By the way, if you missed Palin’s speech at the Republican Convention, this neatly encapsulates what she had to say: 

• Unless The Media™ is completely up McCain/Palin’s bunghole, it won’t be quick-cutting every 30 seconds to one of Sarah’s adorable Little Snow-Babies sucking on Trig’s head or hurriedly handing him off to Todd “Subpoena? We Don’t Need No Steenkeen Subpoenas!” Palin. The absence of a glowing circle of redneck family love beaming moose juice all over everything will cut into her Down-Home Appeal, which as far as I can tell is that she’s capable of taking a load of sperm up her ladyparts and converting them into mouths to feed, huzzah!
• Ninety minutes is a long, long, long time in politics. Watch her face in any of the Couric interview sniplets: This woman has to clamp down so hard on her How Dare You!s that you could crock-pot a 12-pound roast in her underpants in 6 minutes. (And what red-blooded young man in Alaska hasn’t already done that to the good Governor, huh? Huh guys? Am I right? Zing! Sexist!) Elvis Dingeldein’s Fucking Prescient Guess-O-Faction Machine predicts some serious flop-sweat at the 35-40 minute mark. Also, anxiety can often make one incontinent. I know this because I once literally shit myself 25 minutes before the biggest corporate presentation of my life. And that was in front of 20 people. Let’s just watch and see, shall we?
• She’s going to be a Two- or Three-Trick Pony all night. She’ll cycle through them randomly — In What Respect, Gwen?; This Great Country Has [Fill In Obsequious Non-Sequitur]; If John McCain and I Are So Blessed [Fill In Godly Reward Here] — but by the fifth or sixth rotation, even the mouth-breathers will be impatient for something substantive. She’s simply got to go for style over substance tonight, and 90 minutes is too long a stretch for an amateur politician to dazzle a crowd.

And if Gwen Ifill has any balls, she’ll damn the public perception of Liberal bias, do the Nation and its Security a favor, and press Palin to give actual answers and not fucking mindless fluff. As much as I detest Katie Couric, she at least tried to get straight, unspun answers.

Personally, I’m rooting hard for the flop-sweat and the incontinence.