The GOP needs a Trump slayer. Ted Cruz is their man.

Edifying it most certainly was not. But entertaining? You bet.

Like a gladiatorial contest in the waning days of the decadent Roman Empire, Thursday night's Republican presidential debate was immensely entertaining. That is, as long as you allowed yourself to forget that the occasion for the blatant lies, juvenile insults and taunts, cartoonish displays of macho braggadocio, and proud ignorance of public policy was meant to help Republican voters decide which of the men on stage most deserves to be the party's choice to take on the most powerful job on the planet.

The Detroit debate capped a remarkable day in American political history — a day when the GOP's 2012 nominee for president, Mitt Romney, delivered a blistering speech explicitly designed to take down the man who's currently the party's presidential frontrunner. That effort extended onto the debate stage, with two of the candidates and all three of the Fox News moderators training their fire relentlessly on Donald Trump. (Ohio Gov. John Kasich seemed to exist in a parallel universe where Trump and the existential drama surrounding his campaign barely registered.)

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Over and over again, Trump absorbed blows from opponents on either side of him and from the journalists arrayed before him — and responded by spraying a putrid miasma of BS that only the criminally credulous in the audience could have found convincing. (The upcoming primaries and caucuses will help to determine precisely what percentage of Republican voters belong in that category.)

In the whole vulgar, ugly affair, one man managed to stand out and elevate himself a millimeter or two above the rest — and that was Texas Sen. Ted Cruz.

I know, I can't believe I'm saying it either. I've repeatedly described Cruz as a self-aggrandizing demagogue who seeks to further his ruthless political ambitions by flattering and encouraging ideological extremism. Little did I know how much worse it could get. (I remember having the same thought in 2008 and 2012.) Say what you will about Cruz — at least he stands for something, can speak at something higher than a sixth-grade level, is capable of formulating an argument, and has a functioning memory.

And on Thursday night, in the midst of a maelstrom, he never lost his cool.

The same cannot be said of "Little Marco," as Trump has taken to calling Florida Sen. Marco Rubio. (It was that kind of night.) Rubio, hoarse and wrung out from relentless campaigning, seemed (as always) a little over-eager to land body blows and cram every well-rehearsed line into his moments in the spotlight. The effect was pretty unpleasant to watch, and it fell far short of that ever-elusive standard: presidential behavior.

Trump doesn't even strive for it. Or rather, he enacts it in an oddly one-dimensional way. Trump is bravado personified. He's all will, pent up and ready to bowl over the world with his indisputably fantastic wonderfulness (if he does say so himself). He's a caricature of George W. Bush's swaggering President-as-Decider-in-Chief crossed with a Brooklyn mob boss barking orders and threats with barely half a second of thought behind them. He doesn't have a thimbleful of prudence or magnanimity in him.

Rubio seems to think that the way to take on a guy like that is to match him insult and threat for insult and threat. If Trump acts like a schoolyard bully, Rubio shows he can be a bully, too. If Trump interrupts his opponents by repeatedly barking, "Excuse me!" Rubio yells right over him, ensuring that no one can hear a word in the crosstalk.

There's just one problem with this strategy: If the idea is to demonstrate that Trump is unfit to be president, maybe it would be better not to sink to his level by adopting his tactics. Elevate yourself. Make the case against Trump and for your campaign in a way that demonstrates your own fitness to be president.

It's not easy to do, and Rubio can't quite pull it off. But last night, at least, Cruz did. He was a man manifestly in control — of his emotions, of his reason, of his tone. He went after Trump mercilessly, like the skilled lawyer (and former solicitor general) he is. A man who's repeatedly argued cases before the Supreme Court is more than capable of standing toe to toe with Donald Trump, and he proved it.

Not that his approach was purely high-minded. In addition to repeatedly going after Trump over the Trump University lawsuit and the mysterious tapes on which Trump may possibly be heard to reveal to The New York Times that his views on immigration are less than fully sincere, Cruz baited and mocked him for the very anger and agitation that the barrage of attacks understandably provoked. Instead of wallowing in the sludge with him, Cruz treated Trump like a petulant child, goading him with, "count to ten, Donald," and "breathe, Donald, breathe."

As any parent is well aware, saying such things to an angry kid is likely to make things far worse — because the haughty condescension conveys a fundamental lack of respect. Right there, in cutting the Great Dealmaker down to the size of a toddler in the throes of a temper tantrum, America caught a glimpse of why Cruz is so widely disliked by his colleagues in the Senate. But in this outrageous and absurd circumstance, fighting for his political life against a man who has no business getting anywhere near the presidency, Cruz's snot-nosed superciliousness was finally deployed for a noble purpose.

The Republican establishment need look no further for someone to solve their Donald Trump problem — which is everyone's problem.

Ted Cruz is their man.