Yes, if you are unusually dim, or unusually badly read, or four years old, you may well re-imagine things this way. If you are not, you will recall that, not all that long ago, the Washington political class, with Newt Gingrich proudly (if ironically) in the lead, was in hot pursuit of a president’s penis. I think it’s safe to say that anyone who was alive then, and did not as a result drink himself into alcoholic dementia, still recalls that presidents can be both greatly liked and greatly disliked. The same, it should be noted, can be said for the music of ABBA and the taste of beets. So what? And if Meacham can find a single person not confined to a secure facility who thought it “absolutely certain” that Sarah Palin would be president, even for one day, I’ll let him off his work detail reclaiming the swamp for Christmas. President Palin remains as “unimaginable” a concept as is thoracic surgeon Charles Manson, M.D.
Having said that, I hope that Newt idolatry by the villagers (Peggy Noonan: “We need a little on the pro-Newt side balance. The base of the Republican Party knows that the establishment of the Republican Party doesn’t like Newt. That’s a big plus.”) combined with Newt vilification from the left – which only makes that Teatard wing of the Republican Party clutch him ever tighter to their withered bosoms – keeps Newton Leroy Gingrich at the forefront of this race because I fully intend to use this picture a shit-ton of times: [cont'd.]
Needless to say, the ascent and staying power of the Newt candidacy (combined with the awe-inspiring success of JuiceBox Jesus) is making me reassess all of my theological assumptions.