So, I’m thinkin’ we all need to register Republican — Democrats, independents and generic liberals alike.
It’s simple humanitarianism: We must save the Republican party from itself before it just dissolves into a pool of flapdoodle.
“Why,” you ask? “R.I.P., RNC,” you snort? Because just like pulling a thrashing fawn from an icy pond, it’s the right thing to do.
Let’s cut the bipartisan crap and get real. Our country can’t be all Democrat. It won’t survive. What happens if Russia attacks? Are we going to fend Putin off with a poem? Come on. We need a badass in the room or we’re doomed.
I saw a great meme on Facebook recently: “What if I told you that the left wing and the right wing are part of the same bird?”
We need both wings to fly forward, preferably equally strong and in unison. Given the current polarized toxicity of our political climate, I realize that sounds like a pipe dream, and with something stronger than tobacco in the pipe. Nonetheless, it’s something to strive for.
Consider this: All leading polls indicate that Donald Trump is walking away with the Republican nomination, except for the one aired this morning that shows Ben Carson nosing out Trump for the top slot. Trump is surely convulsing in a magnificent, epic temper tantrum as we speak. Wonder if he’ll tweet that Carson is stupid or a horrible person? Trump only has those two categories for those who’ve crossed His Royal Hairness. Unless it’s a woman. Then there’s a third category: dog.
Trump is entertaining. Ya gotta give him that — simultaneously horrifying and hysterical, like “Toddlers & Tiaras,” or “Fox & Friends.” But that doesn’t mean he’s qualified to be president. A vote for Trump is a big, fat middle finger to the Republican congressional establishment, which is wonderfully cathartic, but at the end of the day, the person in the Oval Office must be minimally competent. Even George W. Bush was that. Sorta, kinda, if you squint through one eye.
Trump cannot become President. He just cannot. Should it come to pass, I fear the Four Horsemen will saddle up.
Carson also cannot become President. He is sugar-free Trump, and sugar-free anything is just blech. The strange and soporific Carson just doesn’t have the experience, edge or quick mind to wrangle Congress, let alone foreign leaders. A vote for Carson is just a big, fat middle finger with the other hand. Picture our Republican brothers and sisters in Two-Handed Flip the Bird Pose, and you can sense their anger and frustration, and rightly so.
All right, already, Republican friends, we hear you! Don’t swallow the political suicide pill, because the rest of us don’t want to swallow it with you. (Yes. Trump could beat Hillary. It could happen. Gag on that, America.)
Non-Republicans: It’s all up to us. We must step inside The Big Red House … attend their creepy party, make polite conversation with the least repugnant folks in the room. It ain’t easy, but this is for America, people. Just put on your USA! USA! USA!-colored panties and do it.
Took a deep breath, braced myself, and peeked through the Red door. It’s pretty crowded in there, so first, I tossed out all the non-starters: Trump and Carson, because oh, hell no, and Carly Fiorina because oh double hell no.
Chris Christie? Too hot-headed to conduct himself professionally. Toss. Bobby Jindal, Mike Huckabee, Lindsey Graham and Rand Paul — tossed. Nobody will ever take them seriously, and Hillary will unhinge her jaw and swallow them whole.
Rick Santorum? Hahahaha!
We can still google your name, Rick. The definition hasn’t changed.
Ted Cruz? Dude — George W. doesn’t even like you. Came right out and said so. And while I’m not his biggest fan, George seems like a pretty agreeable guy if he was your neighbor or something, so I’m with The Dub on this one: Cruz on outta here.
Marco Rubio? Just not ready to sit at the adult table yet. His website seems to be targeting kindergarteners — click on the pretty boxes to find out where Marco stands on this and that. A box for every topic!
Except women’s issues.
Marco, Marco, Marco. Half of the country is female. We have vaginas, and we vote. If you can’t read that without trembling, it’s OK. Take your sippy cup and be a good boy, and maybe they’ll let you sit in the VP chair.
Which leaves Jeb Bush, George Pataki, Jim Gilmore and John Kasich. All governors, accustomed to leading everyone — Red, Blue and all shades of Purple in between. Untainted by Congressional connections. Sure, Jeb has Bush stank all over him, and just typing “President Bush” gives me the heebie-jeebies, but honestly — he seems like a decent enough guy. He couldn’t be more unlike his brother if he tried, and hey, that’s a plus. Besides, he speaks fluent Spanish. Connecting ESL citizens to our political process can only be a good thing.
No, you aren’t suffering a stroke: I just said, “Jeb Bush: not so horribly bad.” I guess that’s an endorsement. Yup, I’m taking off my True Blue sunglasses and viewing the remaining Republican governor candidates through colorless lenses, so I can cast a thoughtful, intelligent vote in my very first Republican primary.
Hey — I rescued two cats. I can rescue the Republican party, too.
Ermmm … I could use a little help, though.
And right about now you’re shrieking, “But … but … Abortion and Guns and Taxes! Nooo!”
We don’t see eye to eye with the Republicans candidates on a great many things. But here’s a little secret: It doesn’t matter. We’re electing a president, not crowning a king. The President doesn’t decide those things. Congress does. So, relax. Find the candidate you find least offensive and vote for that guy. We must repair our broken Republican wing, so we can fly forward together. And if you’re shaking your head and insisting you can’t even — two words: President Trump.
— Email Debra DeAngelo at firstname.lastname@example.org; read more of her work at www.wintersexpress.com and www.ipinionsyndicate.com