To be fair, there is something truly majestic about a Bernie speech: The intensity, the deadpan delivery and the fleeting impression that the senator is actually clinging to the lectern for safety, lest he slowly collapse into some invisible cavern of quicksand gurgling right below his feet. As he barks through a break-the-bank socialist laundry list, his hands occasionally float through the air, with loose jabs accompanying random syllables — the last two of "administration"; the first three of "irresponsible." His ideology is a political cough drop, long-expired, crusty and found at the bottom of your great-grandmother's purse, right next to some equally old butter crackers secretly squirreled away from the local all-you-can-eat buffet.