cyborg in the cornfield

Skip to my Lou.

Yes, friends, the Mittbot 2012 squeezed past that frothy mixture of lubricant and fecal... sorry, squeezed past former Pennsylvania Senator Rick Santorum last night and won the Iowa Caucus.

Watching the candidate's speak last night, a couple of things stood out.

Ron Paul, who came in a solid third, is starting to scare me a little bit.  He keeps harping on how we have to obey the Constitution and "go back to the Constitution" and "follow the Constitution", which sounds fine until you remember that according to that sacred document Barack Obama and Oprah Winfrey together only equal one and a fifth people.

Some things need editing, Congressman.

Gingrich, both babyish and stern, wandered lost and freely though his own mind, as he does, seemingly unaware that his mouth is broadcasting every errant thought.  He babbled about his father's military service, Santorum's volunteers and Romney's callousness until his native political sense, that bare-knuckled brawler within, broke through and recognized the next move, calling out a last-minute tag-team alliance with Santorum.  Together they can pin the robot to the mat and Newt will at least live to fight another round.


Bachmann read from what looked and sounded like a hostage note, eyes down, while the people behind her stared everywhere but at her or the camera, and then Perry got up there and read at length from a note given to him by a young Texan lover, sorry, volunteer named Colt or Colton or some goddamned thing.  After about a minute it seemed that Rick was trying to prove to the crowd that he could read, only to end the speech by showing he was the only one who could read the writing on the wall and saying he was headed back to Texas to "reassess" his candidacy. 

So long, Rick and thanks for the laughs.

Romney's just getting weirder with his whole quoting and analyzing the Star Spangled Banner bit, but what the hell, he has to say something besides

"For God's sake, I'm the only credible candidate out here.  Vote for me already!" 

Also, a note to his programmers:  I know you're going for sincerity with the clenched jaw and squinty eyes, but it reads more like dental or rectal pain or some horrible combination of the two. 

And then there's the former Senator from Pennsylvania, that frothy mixture of  lubricant and, sorry, Santorum.

He talked about his immigrant grandfather, who fled Mussolini and Fascism, ending up in the coalmines of Pennsyvlania, dead in a coffin at 72 with a young and wide-eyed Rick staring wonderingly at his enormous, stone-cold hands. 

The point, I suppose, is that Obama is Mussolini and Santorum knows a thing or two about working-class Americans.  The only problem there is that Mr. Santorum, Sr. was a coal-miner who depended upon the union and every FDR-inspired scrap of legislation to ensure the bare minimum of a decent life.  Being the Italian gentleman that I assume he was, he probably would have had too much dignity to spit in his grandson's face, but you can bet your ass he'd quietly disown anyone in the family who held Ronald Reagan up as a hero.

And so we head to New Hampshire where Huntsman waits, Mittbot dominates and Bachmann applies for a part-time job at Walgreen's.

Or something.

This thing just keeps getting stranger.