I was the 143rd voter in my precinct at noon Tuesday, but my ballot was 105, which I assume means I was the 105th to ask for the Republican version. From this, we can extrapolate that the GOP will outpoll the Democrats by a 105-38 margin, and that the next president will be a Republican. Probably Romney.
Hey, just testing my punditry skills, in case anyone wants me to go on CNN.
Primary Day in Michigan was a big fat anticlimax, unless you were at the auto show Monday, which hosted the big three GOP contenders, plus Joe Lieberman, carrying John McCain’s coat. Connecticut for Lieberman for McCain: it has a real ring to it. But in the end, of course it was Romney’s show, seeing as how he was the only one who spent more than $1.98 and actually bothered to rent a local hotel ballroom for the victory speech. There’s something about seeing the candidates concede Michigan from South Carolina that really says “your primary was a joke,” isn’t there? (Jack Lessenberry over at the Metro Times put it more starkly: “Kazakhstan has better elections.” At least for Democrats.)
There were some chuckles, but they were so far inside as to be practically non-existent. The NYT’s county-by-county map is interesting, in that “uncommitted” carried the Democrats’ day in only two outposts — the thinly populated mystery spot of Emmet County, at the very tip of the mitten, where only 1,222 Democratic ballots were cast, but 49 percent of them went for U.N. Committed, and the Communistic pinko liberal People’s Republic of Washtenaw, which should not be counting on a warm hug from President Hillary, by God.
(As for what it says that the New York Times offers the best graphic representation of what’s happening in a state 500 miles away — that’s a question I’ll leave for you folks.)
Sorry I took the day off yesterday. I was walking into walls and not getting my calls returned. Also, I needed my roots touched up. Let me make it up to you with bloggage:
Ever wonder what a commune for crunchy-con buttheads would look like? Alas, county commissioners shot down this half-baked Hoosier version of Seaside, Florida. I think it would be a great setting for a murder mystery, however. Be my guest, Lippman. Maybe the next time Tess Monaghan takes a road trip, she can check out the corpse found in the dumpster behind Little Blessings Midwifery. Via The Good City. (Just an aside: What is it with these folks and chickens? They all want a backyard henhouse, or will until they learn just how early roosters get up in the morning. You should hear my vet talk about Grosse Pointe’s wild pheasant population, and the cocks that start crowing at 3:30 a.m. in midsummer. Only they don’t say cock-a-doodle-do, which is annoying enough at that hour; “it sounds like fingernails on a blackboard.” Ah, country life.)
Where did you first read about Truck Nutz? Here, that’s where. And four years ago, no less. (Sorry, the photo’s been lost to the ages. Here’s a replacement. I highly, highly recommend Nut Galleries one and two.) Now the Virginia legislature wants to ban them. For the children, of course.
Speaking of lame-ass punditry. I think Matthew Yglesias nails Tim Russert pretty well, in Washington Monthly.
Why the English are better than us: Because even their trashy tabloids, reporting bizarro police/court news, can use the word “remonstrate” in copy without fear that their idiot readers won’t know what it means.
Now I have to clean my house. John ‘n’ Sam arriving in about five hours. Friends! Adults to talk to! I may faint.