The three most important presentations of the post-apocalyptic Newt, the Newt of the latest resurrection, presented a contrast that did not become clear until the Obama State of the Union. Newt could have taken a winning lesson from Bob Burns. Not Robert Burns the poet. Rather, Bob Burns the early radio comedian. He was known through much of his career as the Arkansas Philosopher. Bing Crosby made him famous.

Newt's two debate performances in South Carolina, the exhibition matches that brought him unexpected victory in the state, were pugnacious, in-your-face. He was spoiling for a fight, ready for challenges to his ethics, an angry ex-wife, a financial history, and political condemnation. He turned it all around, spun it, and threw it in the face of several surprised journalists and one shocked and awed Mitt Romney.

The audience went wild.

In Florida, the contrast was palpable. The new king of the hill, the front runner, the winner in the making, was calm, collected, and master of the Ali shuffle in early rounds. Rope-a-dope was the new rule as Mitt flailed angrily, stumbling over his words. Newt won two debates in South Carolina by ... well ... winning. He was victorious in one debate in Florida by not losing. He won Tampa on points. It could have been a knockout.

But there was something missing. The next day, Newt himself supplied the answer. Reuters provides the account.

Republican presidential candidate Newt Gingrich, coming off one of his most subdued debate performances of the campaign, signaled on Tuesday he may skip future debates unless his supporters are given full license to clap, cheer and roar.

Yeah, that was it. CCR wasn't there. Television viewers in South Carolina hadn't needed prompting from expert commentary following each debate. The studio audience offered their own spontaneous instruction. We often take our cues from those around us, an effect put to use in countless situation comedies. What actor René Auberjonois once described sarcastically as "hilariously dysfunctional families" become palatable because of an audio signal that tells the audience what is funny.

It was largely discovered through the accidental efforts of Bob Burns on Bing Crosby's popular radio show in the mid-1940s. Bing grew tired of occasional production mistakes and the multiple daily broadcasts that were needed to fill different time zones with live radio. He looked for reliable recording mechanisms. During one pre-broadcast warmup by "the Arkansas Philosopher" Bob Burns entertained the studio audience with a few off color farm stories. Crosby ended up with some great experimental recordings that the bosses insisted not be used on air. Too racy.

So the studio sliced and diced them, much as Andrew Breitbart might today when targeting a potential smear victim. Bob Burns was spliced out, and only periods of laughter were left in. The laughter was then spliced into other recordings that were to be aired. Listeners at home were treated to the illusion of very strong audience reaction to mediocre scripting. Those at home laughed along. It must be funny. Listen to the studio audience.

In Tampa, NBC News moderator Brian Williams surprised everyone by warning the audience to keep their reactions to themselves. They pretty much obeyed the sit-on-your-hands orders. Williams must have a stronger face-to-face persona than is apparent on screen.

I have to wonder whether Newt dialed down, way down, his mad-as-hell-and-I'm-not-gonna-take-it-anymore approach in adapting to the new enforced mood of blankness. The only ambient sound during the debate was that of one hand clapping. No magic moments. No volcanic eruptions. No Guns of Navarone cannon fire. Just Newt brushing off Mitt as Mitt tried to mimic fierceness. No more Mister Nice Mitt. Bare knuckles. Taking the mitts off.

The Newt strategy of calm in the storm, strength through blessed assurance, was probably the best tactic. Let Mitt swing at him until exhausted. But it would have been more exciting with a more robust audience.

Watching Obama confront Congress with accompanying cheers, ovations, and closeup reactions, it struck me that he could have been as effective with a silent audience. Or no audience.

Maybe.

The President uses that environment of audience reaction. He clearly enjoys it. The former Speaker needs it to breathe.

Newt would for sure have done better with sound and fury in the background. The audience is his group debate partner. It is his Ride of the Valkyries. It serves as a reinforcement for Republican television viewers, those preparing to vote. Man, that Newt sure takes it to Obama. Listen to the hollering from the audience.

If Newt Gingrich finds a way to replay the grand Tampa episode of Mortal Kombat, he might consider the invention that came from the off-color stories of Bob Burns on the Bing Crosby show of the 1940s.

An audience might not even be necessary. Newt might get by with just a laugh track.