Since I'm the guy who supposedly cost Willard Mitt Romney the Iowa caucuses twice, I suppose I'm expected to have some hot take at the ready about his prospective bid for U.S. Senate — a real teeth-gnasher about the human Etch-a-Sketch returning to surprise us every day with where he (temporarily) stands on any given issue.
Except I don't, because as the great prophet Phil Collins once sang, "I don't care any more-wore."
I'm just not emotionally invested in the Republican Party whatsoever, ever since I finally got the message that it's just not that into the likes of me — actual conservatives who believe the Constitution isn't (yet) a dead letter and the Bible just might be the Word of God.
Therefore, except when someone I know personally is running and could potentially do the sub-atomic level of good the system will still allow, I don't give a rat's wretchedly repulsive rear end who wins any of these GOP primaries or offices. I danced with that devil in the pale moonlight for more than a decade of my life that I can't get back. And with very limited exceptions, I seemed to get mostly the same post-election day results, win or lose.
So what's the point? Why should conservatives waste time and energy wrestling with the giant for control over the soul of a soulless party? Let Gollum have the Precious.
After all, life's too short for me to melt down over such inconsequential things. Especially when my beloved Michigan Wolverines football program went full-fledged Chernobyl on New Year's Day, and that's much more important to me than the GOP. Because, heck, even when the M stands for mediocre, the Wolverines still love me back more.
And you know what? A funny thing has happened on the way to my not caring. I'm actually more appreciative of the GOP now than when I was a member. Which isn't to say I'm all that appreciative, mind you, but "meh" is probably preferable to "grr." Because, lesser of two evils!
See, since I hold no personal stake in the party any longer, I have no personal expectations. They're just another tribe of politicians to me. A seemingly endless sea of faces. A mere means to an end.
I don't haggle over every syllable in the party platform, which almost none of its elected officials have ever read anyway. I've given up believing there will be any semblance of a meaningful platform to oppose progressive statism on a cultural level. I know they're never taking on Planned Parenthood, subsidized campus radicalism, or the Rainbow Jihad — despite their dishonest claims to the contrary.
Thus, when they give me a tax cut that could make me more than five thousand dollars richer this year, I am thankful when I used to be suspicious. For gestures like this were meant as an obvious bribe to keep me on the reservation, while they're breaking their promises to do things like repeal Obamacare and build a wall.
But a new year means a new me. I'm not letting the GOP spin me right round, baby, right round, like a record, baby, any longer. To me these political parties are like a Wal-Mart or a Target. And I don't expect a big box store to be a vehicle for my values any more than I expect that from the Republican Party. I have finally gotten it through my thick skull, and thinning hairline, that the GOP isn't a transformational entity but a transactional one.
I know, it only took me 11 years, too. Because you've got to get up pretty early to slip one past the ole Deace Man. Who says I'm slowing down in my middle age? Tell Bob Dole to stick that purple pill where the sun doesn't shine.
So whether we're digging up bones with Willard Mitt Romney, or living the thug life with Mitch McConnell, ain't no thang. It's K Street's world, y'all, just like it's a marshmallow world in the winter.
However, if the corporatists want to give me a substantial sum of my own money back, which the communists would rather horde for themselves, I'm down. Just don't ask me to serve, volunteer, speak, or do anything else significant on their behalf in return.
Like retail, party politics is for suckers.