They Told Us Last Night that They Loved Us

But do they still respect us this morning?

Super Tuesday created a lot of fun for a lot of people who don’t have better things to think about. Hoopla over the presidency has always seemed to me to be disproportional to its actual importance. The power in this nation resides in the House, where all money bills originate. They can strangle anything and they can limit the appellate jurisdiction of the Supreme Court. A president won’t get far without their help.

But the Representatives are not chosen for their conservative stances, they are chosen for just the opposite. Voters, falling for the fictitious idea that everybody can live at the expense of everyone else, vote for the politician who promises them the most loot. And so the nation continues to slide toward that place where all thieves go. And that in a handbasket, to boot.

As for the presidential race, I rather hope that Barack Hussein gets the Democrat nomination. His voting record is even more Communist than Hillary Clinton’s; in fact, it is the leftmost of the entire Senate. If he is elected, at least there’ll be no deception regarding the things he aspires toward. Furthermore, he appears to be on record as a nice person. Hillary, on the other hand, is described by many who have worked with her as the kind of woman who gives witches a bad reputation.

McCain’s victories have folks like James Dobson in tears. I heard him on the Glenn Beck show this morning, so depressed he could hardly speak. I, being a Ron Paul supporter, had no hopes of victory, so I feel fine.

One difference between me and Dobson is that he has been trying to save America. I used to do that. Eventually I came to the profound conclusion that America doesn’t want saving. They’re like Eliza’s father, Alfred P. Dolittle, who said that he was one of the undeserving poor, he liked it that way, and he intended to keep on being undeserving. America, collectively speaking, wants to commit suicide and they are doing it at breakneck speed. Would I step out onto the Interstate to intercept a driverless eighteen-wheeler that was running toward disaster at 95 mph?

I’ll do my part to affect people’s thinking, but I have no hope for the political process. Plenty of us want to be free, but most of us don’t, and that portion of the electorate is too big, too heavy, and rolling at 95 mph at least.