That Joe Biden is a cunning old devil. Here is what I think he did. After that disappointing debate, his resolve began to weaken. He’s an octogenarian, not a stupidinarian. Biden could see the looming prospect of Hannibal Lecter, er, I mean Donald Trump, smugly riding down Pennsylvania Avenue to the inauguration with Project 2025 in his pocket (his suits having large pockets). Biden realized if that should happen, which was increasingly likely, it would be on him.

OK, swallow hard. Drop out. But when to announce? Hmm. Let the Republicans do Donald’s convention. Bring on the sycophants, the wrestlers, screeching in-laws, bulldogs, ear patches. Let Trump deliver his grand speech. Risky? No way! Trump won’t inspire many, or even be coherent. He’s endlessly droning on about weak shower heads, the electric boat and the shark, the windmills and the birds, on and on. He can’t stop himself.

So, Joe, like a boxer letting the cocky opponent punch himself out, figured to let Donald’s party happen. Give him his little post-convention bump. Then catch him flat-footed. Step back! Put Kamala forward! Hand over the campaign. Let ‘er rip, as they say.

Craig Dietrich
Pownal