Let's get one thing straight: A "brain freeze" implies there's knowledge/know-how to be imparted behind the sudden, and painful to watch, "brain freeze" in which the brain ceases communicating with the language synapses and the open mouth takes on the character of a flap-jaw. The subject might as well be speaking in tongues. Weren't you half-expecting Herman's head to swivel all the way around and pea soup to shoot from his mouth? See, a true "brain freeze" presumes a logical, rational, articulate answer is tucked away somewhere in that gray matter before it temporarily "freezes." What we saw from Herman Cain was the sheer panic that comes from the realization, "I don't know WTF I'm supposed to say about this 'Becky-becky-LIBYA-stan' 'cause I have NO FUCKING IDEA what President Obama's policy was in the first place." And there's no Newt beside him for Herman to say, "You go first, Newt." O.M.G.!
That's the "businessman's" dirty little secret: They can surround themselves with acolytes and yes-men/women (who double up as sexual harassment toys) to answer these things for them. The "businessman/CEO" gets to stand there, make sweeping statements, sing a tune or two, and NEVER be challenged by a suck-up media. EXCUSE ME?!
No one ever told Herman he would have to face the music at one point in this campaign. Even George W. Bush knew that, but he had lots of sharpies working for him. I don't quite see the cigarette guy cutting it. I mean, debates are one thing: Even an IDIOT like Mama Grizzly can get past them by seducing National Review's Rich Lowry, who said "Palin sprinkled magic boner dust thru the TV, into the living rooms of American males." Oh-Kay ... as Bill Buckley turns in his grave. (And don't be giving Herman ideas, Rich; he's in enough hot water with those thousands of women not yet sexually harassed by him.)
No. A true "brain freeze" would presuppose Herman had an answer to a very simple foreign policy question. Instead, this is what happens when he's caught like the proverbial deer in the headlights, as millions watch his agonizingly slow, painful embarrassment unfold. You know that stroking the tie move, crossing the legs, and taking a drink of water? Classic signs of performance panic. With a twist. Herman was making sure he was still dressed, his pants were on, and his zipper in the UP position. Because at that moment he was having one of those Freudian nightmares where you believe you're standing in front of all the world wearing nothing but your underwear. Twirl, twirl, twirl ... "Got all this stuff twirling around in my head ... DO I REMEMBER GETTING DRESSED?!"
Politics is a cruel, cutthroat business. When you start feeling sorry for the candidate — and I felt genuinely sorry for Herman — he's finished.
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