STEPHEN GREEN’S DEBATE WRAPUP:

(Forgive any typos, run on sentences, bad punctuation, etc. I’m flying without a net and with four (?) bourbon-rocks.)

The Kraken was indeed released.

Now, to be fair, the Kraken had been asleep for a long time, stuck in that watery cage. When the gates finally opened, he didn’t roar right out and smash a bunch of ships or Medusas or whatever.

(Forgive me. I haven’t watched the movie in years.)

Instead, the Kraken hit the snooze button (waterproof, presumably) a couple of times, yawned, choked on some seawater, burped, dog paddled out of the cage, and then looked awkward and sheepish because the Argonauts spent the next ten minutes pointing at his morning wood.

Well.

I think I’ve stretched the Kraken metaphor thinner than Ursula Andress’ toga, so let’s switch gears.

For all the lovely camaraderie of the last couple of minutes, it’s clear that Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump loathe each other. Instead of a 90 minute town hall format, there’s no doubt that both candidates would eagerly agree to a debate held in a Roman Colosseum, to the death.

And, yes, we would be entertained.

But we have to talk about tonight’s debate, which is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, going back to when I was a child barely older than my oldest son, watching Reagan take on Carter.

I’ve seen them all. I’ve drank to most of them. Most have faded into nothingness.

This one, however, might linger.

I’ve never seen one candidate come on so week, then reverse course — in his own limited, almost demented fashion — so strongly.

I’ve never seen another candidate, so thoroughly programed, act as though her various subroutines had been corrupted by one of those nasty Russian viruses.

And all of this was after we began a presidential debate — a debate to determine the next President of the United States! — by talking about the proclivities of a major-party candidate who had once grabbed about grabbing women by…

Well, let’s not go there. We’ve said too much already.

This was not, in the end — or at almost any other point, really — a serious debate on the issues.

But it was a deadly serious contest between two people too unserious to be president.

However.

One of those unserious people demonstrated tonight that he is at least serious enough to recover from his many self-inflicted wounds, and in the most adverse and public circumstances.

Round 3 is ten days from now. I don’t know what to expect, because nothing from the first debate prepared us for anything from tonight’s debate.

But I can tell you this much: As pure entertainment, I’m looking forward, for once, more to the debate than to the cocktails.

Okay, that’s huge.