The Party of Ho-Ho-Ho

When the history of this election’s Republican primary race is written, it will read like an SNL sketch, even including the part about going on for way too long and ultimately having an unsatisfying conclusion.

The parade of dingbats, nutjobs and knuckleheads the GOP have apparently seriously considered for President so far reads like a Who’s Who of What The Hell?

Remember, it all started a hundred years ago with Donald Trump.

Yes, that Donald Trump. ’Nuff said.

And defying astronomical odds, things got even sillier from there.

The next fart bubble to pop to the surface of the race was Michele Bachmann. Despite being transparently, obviously crazy—and having a husband who was bound to be a liability with the base in the general election—she was given a serious look after winning the Ames Iowa straw poll.

As a political party, when your front-runners start with candidates the caliber of Donald Trump and Michele Bachmann, you may be in for a rough ride. Which doesn’t necessarily mean you should go looking for a rough-rider; poor Rick Perry proved that. His unforgivable sin wasn’t his consistently egregious debate performances, however—remember W’s first run for the White House?—no, his unpardonable gaffe was to help the children of illegal immigrants in his state receive higher educations and then not even have the decency to back away from said unpopular action. In the party of Lincoln, going soft on Brown-skinned people is a career-killer this year.

While continuing to not coddle the Brownies, new this election cycle is that the GOP is granting Black-skinned people a shot at their top slot. Any Black-skinned person. Hello, is this thing on? Seriously, is there anyone of color in the room who only got in the race to sell more copies of his book and hopefully procure a contract with Fox News afterwards?

I’ve never seen anyone as eager to get out of the front-runner slot as Herman Cain—who has done everything but get caught with both a dead hooker and a live boy—in my life.

This week it’s Newt Gingrich.

Newt at least has a head on his shoulders, but it’s massive in proportion to the size of his body; somebody wrote last week that Newt was less a man with an ego, than an ego with a man. I don’t know what kind of President he’d make, but at least the mere thought of it doesn’t make me chuckle.

The thing about all their other serious contenders so far is, just the mention of their names elicits spontaneous gales of laughter from about two-thirds of the country. Try it yourself. Look in the mirror and attempt to say with a straight face, “President Sarah Palin.”

Ba-da-bump clish!

The Republican Party is pantsing itself in front of God and the world. Besides Mitt Romney, whom they hate, their bench is non-existent. There was even an intense, unrequited period of wooing the governor of New Jersey Chris Christie, for Pete’s sake. Besides being both fat as well as jolly, I never saw what the attraction was.

Speaking of Romney, his unforgivable sin is two-fold: Omnibus health care package passed in his state while he was governor, and the GOP base doesn’t like his religion. They’ll even come right out and say it. I guess now that The Gays are getting formal recognition, Mormons are the next socially acceptable group to look down society’s nose upon.

Their best, most winnable candidate, and they fucking hate him because his Big Book Of Crazy has a few more chapters than theirs.

My guess is, The Big Money Guys will saturate the airwaves with commercials closer to voting time and give Romney the boost he needs to secure the nom.

Poor Ron Paul; among his peers, he’s the elder statesman. There was a time not too long ago when he would have been the craziest guy on the stage, but now he’s not even crazy enough to be given a couple weeks of front-runner status. 

Not yet, at least. Next debate is tomorrow. If Newt chokes on his necktie or trips over a shoelace onto the moderators’ desk, Rep. Paul may yet have his day in the sun.