Hello, I'm Adrienne D'Obb.

And I'm Weir D'an again.

And whether we like it or not, we're in bed with the right.

So, Adrian, this is a special emergency episode to hash through the carnival of competing masculinities that was the vice presidential debate that we watched together last night.

That's right. So we watched it together.

I have my notes here.

I know you took copious notes.

Your notes have already produced a column, which I have not read.

I will read that right after this, but I thought I'd keep myself pure just so that, you know,

in case we have some competing analysis.

My notes say that I was particularly impressed with, I am a naked bat.

Oh, wait, that was River jumping around. The first 15 minutes were a bit of a blur, to be quite honest, before she passed out on the couch. But yes, we watched it together.

Adrian's three-year-old daughter River went around running and cavorting and jumping

off the couch for the first few minutes of the debate, which was, I got to say, a little

more dignify than what was happening on stage.

I think so.

My first big takeaway was I was shocked by how civil and how substantive it was,

and by that I mean to say that I also drove home for me the absolute hollowness of those

categories, right? So that's not overly, overtly sort of gender related, but it is, of course,

a gendered category,

both, I think, civility and and substantiveness, right, as opposed to sort of emotional,

are deeply gendered categories. They were definitely having the outlines of a far more

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