Poll watchers are writing the obituary for Newt “I Got My Ass Kicked Over That Name A Lot When I Was a Kid” Gingrich. Pundits are screaming at each other with full-throated vigor and the public stands agog that none of the punditocrisy saw this coming.
“Newt’s a smart guy and will pull it all together!” Newt has too much baggage and doesn’t have a hope in hell” go the chants.
My opinion is that Newt has an ego that would give Donald Trump a hard on. And, he likes to play the “(revised) history professor” to a party well-known as the ignorati since medieval serfs used sticks for shovels… and housing… and, when necessary, food. Besides, everyone had a 7th grade history teacher that hated them. That memory is really hard to overcome.
Newt, the Small Salamander
In the end, Newt will fall into his own mouth and swallow himself into a heftily paid lobbyist and “professor” in some of the nation’s most academically-challenged institutions of higher learning. Besides, he’s named for a small amphibian and that’s a heavy cross to bear.
Noting unusual here. Politicians flame out all the time. What seems to differ this time is that the Republican field is like the Kentucky Derby with 6 more horses than starting gates.
So far, the ultra-insane wing – Michele Bachmann and Governor Goodhair – have fallen prey to that old political disease, Village Idiot Syndrome. Herman Cain – who passes for a moderate in today’s Republican Party – went down with “I Can’t Keep it in My Pants” Disease.
Jon Huntsman will die a quiet political death while trying to explain how his billionaire father has nothing to do with his campaign while accepting more money than God from him. Breeding truly tells.
That religious cultist Mitt Romney – who’s sole redeeming feature is that he isn’t one of the others – will still lose. It seems what you don’t say is almost as bad a saying something stupid. Wearing special underwear and having been named for a piece of baseball equipment will not overcome his challenges either.
I Love the Smell of Moose Urine in the Morning
Who’s left? No, not Donald Trump. He won’t find campaigning nearly as cool as delusional idol worship, gold-plated everything, and swag lamps. The
White Trump House is simply not klassy enough for him.
But, is that moose urine or wolf carcass offal on the tundra I smell? Why of course,
Yosemite Samantha Sarah is baaaack!
She’s nowhere as loony as Santorum or Bachmann, but they’ve been genetically bred for maximum hilarity – religious, anti-chimp/anti-evolution claims notwithstanding. Perry gives her a run for her money, but in the end he still sounds like George the Lesser raised from the dead. And the one thing everyone agrees is that George the Lesser should be exiled to Sardinia… forever.
For some inexplicable reason, people will listen to her. Maybe it’s her folksy delivery or sexy schoolmarm schtick. Maybe it’s her “just plain folks” sensibilities. “She just seems so darn nice,” Republican women will gush. People see her as having the same troubles as them. After all, her reality show was cancelled and it’s replacement withered on the vine. Everyone can relate to that, can’t they?
Of course, Obama will win the election – not because people like him – but because they see how bad things are now and are absolutely terrified it’ll get even worse with someone else in the catbird seat.
Surprisingly, Republicans aren’t driving nails into their own coffin with this baffling array of candidates with donut holes for brains. No, they’ll just look like buffoons until such time as the Democrats out-buffoon them and then put up some yokel with lots of money and no morals for the win.