Super Tuesday and Hand Sizes. That’s what “Super Tuesday” boiled down to. Silly me, I thought we were trying to have an election, and here we’ve come down to a contest from a biker bar. I’m cool with that. Glad to see that the elite are on my level. First, let’s look at the results for the be big show last night. Remember when I told you about Trump’s southern strategy? Well, like the Homeys in Killeen say, “Whomp! Dey it is!” I pointed that out first, and if Alex Jones or Glenn Beck take credit for that observation I’m gonna get mad! For the record, they totally missed it.
Let’s go from bottom to top, shall we? Rubio. You know, Marco is a Cuban from Florida. Why do I keep having visions of Al Pacino? The term, “Scarface.” Ok, forget that, let’s just look at the number. Wait, there are no numbers. Oh, my bad, Minnesota. I guess that counts for something. Now, the skinny. Untethered by facts he went straight for the hands. Now, I’m crude, folks. I had a forty year career as “Weird Wilbur,” and given enough Jim Beam at a party you’ll hide the women folk. I’ve tempered a bit, but I’m older, not dead. Anyway, Rubio centered on this for all to see. Head’s up, Marco, it’s the shoe size, not the hands. (Mine is a 12 EE.) Trump didn’t respond, which was expected, but personally I would have run with it. To Trump’s credit, he didn’t.
Ted Cruz. For Ted it was “TwoFer Tuesday.” He got Texas, and for someone to win their home state is sort of like, “Look, my mommy voted for me!” Actually, Ted lives here, so he most likely put more time into the Texas primary than he did, say, Alabama. He picked up Oklahoma, too, but heck, they always do what we tell them to do anyway, and the delegate count isn’t, as the Donald would say, “Yuuuuge!” I’m not going to pick on Ted too much, I mean, at least he didn’t start a “measuring contest” in some Miami bar. He is a consummate politician, and will chart his course. He will be a force to contend with at the convention, and planks are almost as important as candidates when the rubber hits the road. The nominee will be standing on a platform made from planks put there by people like Ted Cruz. I was taken aback when Trump called him a liar during the last debate. Hey folks, they’re all liars. That’s why they’re called, “Politicians.”
Bernie Sanders will never beat Hillary. He came out recently saying that no one needed a gun for self-defense. Bye Bye eighty percent of possible supporters. Stupid is as stupid does. Well, he won his home state. (Look, my mommy voted for me.) I’ve seen these hippies come and go. Same logic, same crowd, same results. (George McGovern.) I’m glad he’s had a job for the last three or four decades, but it’s time to get his Wikipedia listing and move on. Now, Trump is a yankee, but Sanders is a YAAAAAANNNNNKKKKEEEEE! I don’t know if he was even on the ballot in Texas. Guess he was, there are laws, but nobody noticed. And he looks like a hippie. Frankly, he looks like Timothy Leary. I loved that cameo Leary did in a Cheech and Chong movie, but that’s another matter.
Drum roll please! HILLARY! I watched her speak last night. All I can say is that she showed up in a timely fashion, which is more than I can say about Cruz. I sat there, iPhone in hand, waiting for him to come on stage, and after three beers I peed on the fire and called in the dogs. That’s when I found Hillary. How do I put this? She had this Muslim chic correctly positioned to her rear left, wearing that thing they have to wear on their head to keep from being stoned, and she smiled every time Hillary opened her mouth. Frankly, I was waiting for her to reach into her blouse and pull the string. Do Muslim women get seventy-two virgins? Deep theological stuff there! Anyway, I was trying to place what was familiar about Hillary’s speech, not the content, I’ll address that shortly, the tone, and then it hit me. The female computerized voice you hear when you get a wrong number on a cell phone. The speech itself was a series of sound bites that evoked cheers from the crowd no matter what she said. “Make America whole again.” She centered on that as a counter to Trump’s “Make America great again,” because she didn’t have anyone on staff smart enough to come up with something cleverer without borrowing. Then she turned and wandered off into the crowd like an Alzheimer’s patient at medication time. Nod, Nod, Smile, Smile, roll the credits, fade to black.
Trumps plan worked exactly like I said it would, and he’s in Florida right now serving up Scarface a second helping. Oh, my bad, Rubio. Whatever happens in Florida is of no consequence. If Trump wins it’ll be a big slap in Rubio’s face, and if he loses (My MOMMY voted for me!) Trump will be the nominee. I read that in a political article yesterday by a man who hasn’t missed a guess in like, thirty years! He will be president if we can guard all the cemeteries on election night. You know among democrats that night is known as “The Night of the Living Dead.”