If you had told me last year that the final four Republican presidential candidates were Mitt Romney, Newt Gingrich, Rick Santorum and Ron Paul, I wouldn't have believed you. Well, OK, maybe half-believed you.
Romney? Yes. He's the theoretically electable one.
Santorum? Yes. He's the pure, crazy, double-down guy.
Paul? Yes, but not as a Republican. I wonder how his supporters reconcile their both-parties-are-the-problem view with their guy running in one those parties. Maybe it's like my tea party alter ego Earl "Clem" Bob says, "Both parties suck, especially the Democrats." All you need is EVOL.
Gingrich? Hell no. In 1995, I had a hot girlfriend*. It was great for awhile, but we didn't part on the best of terms. And we haven't spoken since. It would seem silly to call her up now and ask her for a date, because that would reek of my inability to move on and look like I was really reaching for some companionship, because I can't stand that loneliness is president. You get the idea.
On the other hand, maybe if she and I talked now, there might actually turn out to be better chemistry than before. In that case, why not make it work? Forget the bad times, am I right? That childish drama belongs in another era. Time heals all wounds and all that.
But, most likely, she'd still babble about how my Hall and Oates collection is lame. And such rhetoric is as inexcusable now as it was then. So much for that.
I won't get into the kissing and the Uma Thurman comparisons. The analogy falls apart then. Fortunately.
(* — Three of them, actually, which makes this analogy even more apt.)
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