Marianne Williamson is both a time-traveler from the 80s and a candidate for President.
Marianne Williamson is both a time-traveler from the '80s and a candidate for President. Sean Rayford/Getty Images

The highlight of last night's otherwise predictable debate was Marianne Williamson, a self-help expert who sounded just like Liza Minelli and looked like a daytime TV star beamed directly in from the '80s. The only thing that would have made her more of a time capsule would be Donald Trump (this time with more hair) following her through Studio 54.

Williamson said nothing for almost the first 30 minutes of the debate, but unlike some of the more seasoned candidates, when she did talk, it was highly entertaining. When asked what her first act as President would be, Williamson replied, "My first call is to the prime minister of New Zealand, who said her goal was to make New Zealand the place where it’s the best place in the world for a child to grow up. And I will tell her, 'Girlfriend, you are so on.' Because the United States of America is going to be the best place in the world for a child to grow up."

I was unfamiliar with Williamson until last night, but it seems she's actually quite popular in a different American bubble. Namely, women who believe in healing vibrations and subscribe to O Magazine. She's written four New York Times Bestsellers, including one called Healing the Soul of America, and, more importantly, was a regular guest on Oprah. She's also responsible for a number of quotes you'll see printed on throw pillows and sold on Etsy, like, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." (My deepest fear is the Cascadia Subduction Zone, but okay.)

Williamson has got some nutty beliefs, for instance, a skepticism of vaccines, and she has a very unlicensed-Reiki-healer-who-thinks-GMOs-cause-cancer vibe. I'm surprised she doesn't have her star chart on her website. And, yet, none of this is disqualifying to be President, especially after Trump broke the Totally Unqualified seal, and while I might think the type of spiritual pop psychology Williamson deals in is pure nonsense, that shit resonates with plenty of voters (and, frankly, isn't all that much weirder than standard religious ideology). I mean, have you looked at social media lately? Half of the posts in my feed involve the words "Gemini season."

During the debate, Marianne Williamson felt more like a tension-reliever than a serious candidate, and it's not hard to see why it's she—and not, say, Bernie Sanders—who is dominating online chatter this morning. She's funny, meme-able (even if she's not quite in on the joke), and with another year and a half until the election, we need some fucking entertainment. But there's a danger in this as well. When I was watching Williamson last night, I could almost, for just a moment, see the appeal of a totally out-of-left-field candidate. If you hated every other candidate on that stage, if you're sick of politicians saying whatever it will take to get them elected, there's Marianne Williamson, a serious contender in the ironic fuck-it-all vote. Is that how Republicans felt last year when faced with Jeb! and Ted Cruz for President? With choices like that, why not just burn it all down and vote on Donald Trump—or, in this case, the women who'll appoint Deepak Chopra Secretary of the Soul? And it's not just Americans who've elected the least qualified candidate to office. It happens all over the world, from Italy to Guatemala to Ukraine, which last month inaugarated a comic whose primary qualification was playing the president on a sitcom. He won by nearly 75 percent of the vote.

At this point, I still have a tiny bit of faith that my fellow Democrats see that Marianne Williamson should really not be President. Not only has she never held public office, tarot cards are a terrible means of devising foreign policy. But Trump was unqualified, too, and, yet, here were are. So it would be wise, I think, to take Marianne Williamson seriously instead of dismissing her candidacy as a joke. She may seem nutty, but so is much of the U.S.