Over the past week, Huckabee dropped out of the Republican presidential race, Romney may have permanently crippled himself with a stubborn partial defense of the Massachusetts health care plan he implemented, and Gingrich got the brilliant idea of attacking Paul Ryan from the left (Ryan, to the consternation of those who hope he will enter the presidential fray, is now eyeing the senate seat being vacated by Democrat Herb Kohl). Meanwhile, Trump, bereft of his signature issue (Obama’s birth certificate) folded in the polls like a broken lawn chair (update: he has also pulled out of the race), and Ron Paul had only to announce his intentions in order to be assured of defeat. The nation waits with bated breath to find out if Mitch Daniels’ wife is willing to give him permission to run, and if so, to learn of an approximate date on which he will consider himself sufficiently bucked up to debate Obama on foreign policy. John Huntsman continues to be chided at family gatherings, by those relatives who actually recognize him, for his fan letters to Obama and Clinton.
Biggest beneficiaries? Probably Herman Cain (at least in the short-term), and maybe Tim Pawlenty. Not sure what Sarah Palin’s up to, but I wouldn’t count her out.
Prediction? The Republican convention, deadlocked after 15 rounds, nominates me, and I go on to become, for the enemies of individual liberty, Ivan the Fedorable, breaking the power of the federal bureaucracy and its co-conspirators in Congress, and ushering in an era of unbridled economic liberty, featuring, among other things, cheap gasoline and even cheaper cigarettes. A golden age, my friends.