Cruzin’ II

BudLiteGood morning, y’all. While we’re waiting for the next “popup shower”, it’s gotten a little colder here in the mountains. Not cold mind you, just more pleasant in my mind. This is the kind of weather I could go out and plow the South 40 in. That is, if we had a South 40, and if I remember how to plow. “Gee” means go left, and “haw” means to go right, as I recall. Making the wrong call to the mule is a mistake you’d correct pretty quickly if your first direction was wrong.

Speaking of changing direction, The Cruz has decided to take his bat and ball and go home. You might say that The Cruz got thumped in the Bible belt with his loss to The Donald in the Indiana primary. The thumper got thumped, I like that. The fact that The Cruz was rejected by the folks most like him is doubly rewarding for me. Indiana folks are the most Evangelical group as a whole that the candidates are supposed to face. Something like 31 percent of the white population considers themselves Evangelical. Make no mistake, Indiana is a white state, with 87% of the population being of the pale persuasion. There are lots of Klan members to spread the love around. They just spread the love to The Donald, and not to The Cruz. That should give us something to watch out for in the general election. 

Talking about watching out for stuff, I love the fact that sometimes the TV crew is right where you want them to be when some historic meltdown occurs. I guess the truth is, the camera is supposed to be there, it’s just serendipitous that a meltdown occurs. An example would be when Jimmy Swaggart lost it when apologizing to his wife, family and congregation for chasing hookers. In the case of The Cruz, the camera was rolling for another blah, blah, blah, “vote for me” prior to the Indiana polls closing. What transpired was the desperation of a man who suddenly realized that his wife Heidi was not the prophet they thought she was. Heidi had had “a visitation” from the Lord telling her that her husband was a lock in 2016. Heidi was now standing next to her husband looking forlorn as her husband floundered in front of the national media. The Cruz felt compelled to let the audience know that being anointed by the Lord was not enough. The Cruz was fighting a bigger fight against a bigger foe than the Lord could handle, The Donald.

“This man is a pathological liar. He doesn’t know the difference between truth and lies. He lies practically every word that comes out of his mouth.” “Donald Trump is a serial philanderer and he boasts about it.” “This is not a secret, he is proud of being a serial philanderer.”  “If anyone has seen the movie ‘Back to the Future II’, the screenwriter says that he based the character Biff Tannen on Donald Trump, the caricature of a braggadocious, arrogant buffoon…We are looking, potentially, at the Biff Tannen presidency,”

Well, now you’ve got my interest. What would a Biff Tannen presidency look like, and would it be any worse than an Elmer Gantry presidency? I guess we’ll never know as The Cruz has officially dropped out of the race. The Donald bid him a fond farewell with this Tweet, “That was an impressive meltdown… Desperate but impressive. Reminded me of my 3 year old coming off a sugar high.”  I hate to agree with The Donald on anything, but the comparison to a three year old and a sugar high is pretty accurate. I guess “firing all of your guns at once”, and finding out that they were filled with blanks, pushed The Cruz over the edge. It was a fitting final memory for his campaign.

Another fitting final memory was the look on Carly Fiorina’s face as she watched The Cruz implode. You could just see the wheels a turning. I’m thinking she was talking to herself, like, “I know the plan was to ride his coattails into the White House and then wait for an appropriate time to slip him the belladonna nightcap in his grape juice.” “Now what am I supposed to do, suck up again to The Donald?”. “Well, ok, a girl has got to do what a girl has to do to bust through these glass ceilings”. 

Of course I’m just imaging this thought process as Carly’s face gave nothing away. Her face looked normal, like she’d just eaten a bowl of sauerkraut that had been marinated in lemons and buttermilk. No tells there for you poker players.

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