It’s 10 PM in Iowa and the official tally is confirming what most of us suspected when the evening began – 75% of the republican voters don’t want Mitt Romney as the nominee. In spite of he and his secret super-PAC spending millions and millions of dollars saturating the media with negative adds against his nominal rivals – particularly the chubby Napoleon, Newt Gingrich – he is in a dead heat with Rick “the Saint” Santorum, a man so unfamiliar with reality that he thinks pre-marital sex should be criminalized. They are currently tied with a robust 25% of the vote. Since Santorum has absolutely no chance of being the nominee this result reduces Mitt’s burden going forward considerably and sets him up to slam dunk little New Hampshire next week, do middling well in South Carolina and have enough momentum going into Florida that the race will effectively be over. But James Carville hit the nail on the head when he said this is a really weak performance for Mitt.
Sure, there are still pundits out there who earnestly proclaim that Rick “Which state is this again” Perry can rally from his dismal 10% showing here. And Ron Paul has his fired up 20% and can’t be completely discounted either. But like Santorum, Paul has as much chance to be nominated by the republican party as Barney Frank. The party seems to have a death wish but it not as yet that profound and determined. He won’t be nominated either. Michele Bachman’s body just washed up in New Orleans and Jon Huntsman, trailing the field with an ignominious 1%, clearly has to win New Hampshire or he’s can’t go on.
That an incredible dunce-like performance over the last 60 days hasn’t driven Perry over a cliff is a testament to the predominance of ultra-conservatives as the bulk of the primary voters. They don’t seem to care that he can’t get his boots on the right feet, as long as he can regurgitate key right-wing talking points from memory and seems to hate the right people, he will get votes from that 10% of addled voters who remember that Reagan wore cowboy boots too and who will cross their fingers and pull his lever. But I believe he is the guy being dragged down main street behind a fine brown horse never to be seen again, no matter how much the crusty political bosses of the oil patch yearn for another dimwitted Texan to carry their flag. Sorry podners…that ain’t happening. He looks like a man who has his thong on backwards. Even oozing false humility tonight he can’t get his speech straight and stumbles over the simplest of sentences. He is the absolute worst kind of drawling populist fraud and all I can say is good riddance…
Right now Newt-poleon, with his fleshy Barbi-doll, Callista, is standing in front of a cluster of microphones calling up the ghost of the Gipper, grossly distorting and inflating his congressional history and bemoaning all of the negative ads that buried him in a landslide of mud. He is congratulating Santorum for not going negative because he knows as well as anyone that Rick’s fundamental delusion is toxic and doesn’t threaten him. He shamelessly holds out American soldiers fighting over seas as doing so to defend free elections like tonight's, (sort of true), while also saying they aren’t doing so to defend Romney’s PAC so it can run negative ads against him, poor little Newty. If he wasn’t such a blowhard provocateur with a well documented history of hurling personal insults at his opponents it might be possible to sympathize with the poor bastard. But Newt burned his bridges long ago and now that the whole republican establishment hates him he suddenly is shocked – shocked I tell you – that Mitt is running negative ads and not playing fair. Now he’s pissed and the Mitt-ster better watch out.
Last to speak now at just past 10:30 PM local time, as the vote counts dribble in, Michele Bachman is putting a brave face on her desultory and ragged campaign over the last couple of weeks which resulted in her last place finish, (Huntsman doesn’t count). Somehow she still thinks she is the best candidate to defeat Obama – or at least tonight she is saying so – and she vows to ignore the pundits and soldier on like the righteous Christian soldier she is. Maybe later Marcus will take her aside, give her a quick look at the checking account and, tomorrow morning after the Xanax wears off, she'll maybe change her mind. She still has plenty of time to re-register to run for the house in Minnesota and she’ll no doubt be filling out the paper work by the end of the week.
The endless chewing of this tasteless cud by the cattle at CNN – Wolf, go have a beer for Christ’s sake – is the most entertaining thing going on now since the candidates are off hitting the mini-bars. It reminds me on the semi-coherent enthusiasm of the knuckleheads who obsess over the NFL every Sunday morning, endlessly churning various scenarios, dissecting the minutia of strategy and pouring over the injury reports until you just have to turn the sound off. The infinite loop of the news cycle will plow repetitively through until morning, at which time I will have a piece of raisin toast and a hearty cup of decaf and see what the smart money is saying. Maybe the tea leaves will be easier to read and the bodies will have floated to the surface by then. Good night, Iowa...
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