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Tuesday, March 12, 2019

The Democrats' 2020 Nominee

At the time of this writing, there are well over twenty Democrats who have formally declared their intentions to seek the office of the President of the United States in the year 2020.  The list includes just about every size, shape, gender and color of human being in the catalog, but thus far, nobody seems to know who will emerge as the front runner.  At this point, I assume the higher-ups are panicked just trying to figure out how to cram everyone on to the same debate stage at one time.

The problem with Presidential prognostication is that too many pundits are basing their predictions on unreliable or just plain weird data.  Some use the same tactics they applied in high school to determine whose popularity would win the prom queen crown.  Others utilize the "packaging" approach, trying to stuff as many facets into one conglomerated individual in order to pander to the maximum number of voters.  Still more prefer the cynical strategy, in which "nothing ever changes" or "the Deep State political machine will choose its candidate the same way it always has."

As usual, I opt for another method entirely.

I submit that to really get a handle on 2020, forget what color the people are and start focusing on what color the states are.  That's where the first big clue really is.  One glance at this map shows exactly which states the Democrats lost in 2016, but thought they were going to win.  The so-called "purple states" -- which could swing either way -- is where the big battles are.  The Dems want to do everything they can to swing those states' Electoral votes to blue in 2020, so it stands to reason that a nominee from one of those states has an inside track.


If you buy into that argument, the Democrat nominee is currently eating his lunch in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Florida, Wisconsin, North Carolina or Virginia.  Yes, there are more purple states, but with ten or fewer Electoral votes, they're minor players.

Notice I mentioned the nominee eating his lunch?  That's because even notable Democrats are spooked by the party's public shift to the far left and fear losing even more center-aligned Democrats to either an independent or President Trump.  So the second Democrat imperative is to recruit a middle-aged white man: First, in order to reassure the rank and file, the Democrats need optics that confirm the party hasn't gone over the edge.  Second, without conceding his successes, the Democrats want to wheel out their version of a kinder, gentler Donald Trump.

In case you were sleeping, this is why Howard Schultz is rattling the bars on his cage.

What about diversity, you ask?  Simple.  That's what Vice Presidents are for.  Roll up a non-white, female of questionable gender as your veep, limit her to one public debate and you're good to go.

Next, start eliminating the mathematical factors.  No member of the House of Representatives has made the leap to the Presidency in over a century.  No reason to think it would happen now, so scratch those names off your list.   You can also cross out any mayors or state politicians, because they're perceived as way too local and/or green.

That pretty much leaves the short list United States Senators and Governors. As you can see, only Pennsylvania, Virginia and North Carolina have blue governors -- and they're all white men.


Ooooo, the plot thickens!

Look at those states' United States senators, and they're all white men, too.  Knock out the losers (Tim Kaine is too closely identified with Hillary and Ralph Northam is stained with black face) and the list gets pretty short -- if you're buying into any of this.

Okay, so maybe this isn't how it's going to play out.  But you have to admit one thing:  It makes more sense than anything else you're seeing from the Democrats these days.


Sunday, March 03, 2019

Hot Chicks Will Destroy Socialism

Like anyone else, I have my own political viewpoints. I'd never ask anyone to agree with my own, for a number of reasons:

1.  I think it's rude to tell other people what and how to think.
2.  I think it's rude for other people to tell me what and how to think.
3.  Frankly, I really don't care what and how other people think.
4.  It really doesn't matter what and how other people think.

Okay, that last one probably sounds a bit presumptuous, but that's the one that's most important. Look, I realize I'm no longer a young man.  In fact, at this point, I may even qualify as a borderline antique.  Fine with me.  I'm totally okay with trading youth for experience, because if you pay close attention, life has a way of teaching you patterns that are, for the most part, totally and completely immutable, yielding wisdoms of the master sages.

That's why it never really matters what people think at any given moment. I know their opinions are going to change as they age and life starts beating the crap out of them with unforeseen events and circumstances that nobody saw coming, including deaths, diseases, accidents and girlfriends who got pregnant even though they swore they had taken their pills.

Oh, sure, when you're young, life is all about rejecting the old and exploring the new.  Your twenties are all about arrogantly defining who you are and to whom you're trying to sell it. Some tactics work; lots of them don't. And somewhere between the time they decide to reject their parents' values and the day they accept the late charge on their Mastercard bills, life begins to point and laugh at young people's attempts at self-direction.

Being young, poor and insecure, the easiest path for these kids to choose is usually socialism, which makes sense, since the majority of socialists in America are young people in their twenties (and early thirties) who haven't yet succeeded, accrued wealth or figured out how to make sense of their lives. In fact, about the only thing they have discovered, is that creating a successful life is far more challenging than how this week's Netflix movie would have them believe.

Success, as it turns out, is not a thirty-second montage.

Out there in the digital world, where virtue signaling is the currency in which young socialists trade, eschewing material wealth and demanding entitlements is the stuff to which young socialists can relate and fuels the charisma of pols such as Bernie Sanders.  After all, he's a socialist and he's old, which must mean socialism isn't just for young idealists.  An old socialist, it turns out, can be a very reassuring image to a young socialist, who still craves parental approval.

But I digress.

Since 2008, the socialist agenda has swelled along with the ranks of impoverished twenty-somethings who feel that sharing a little holds more promise than risking a lot.  But if history teaches us anything, it's that fads like socialism are doomed to fail, if only for one solid, basic, proven reason:

Hot chicks.

Don't laugh. History is on my side for this one.  And here's why:

Young people are not immune to the laws of nature. Neither are you. You can grow as big a man-bun as you please, but at the end of the day, women are viscerally drawn to masculine providers, not posers. The more a man can provide, the more women he can attract. This is why men build tall buildings and great bridges and foolishly lay it all at goddesses' feet.  Men, being the grunting savages we are, know that the more women we can attract, the higher quality woman we can win.  So we bulk up what we can, where we can -- usually in our bank accounts -- which unfailingly brings droves of incredibly gorgeous, talented, intelligent women within matrimonial striking range.

It doesn't take more than, say, one ten-year high school reunion before socialists in their late twenties meet up with their class members who've long since abandoned their socialist cause.  Most often, these are the hot chicks, with rich, older husbands in tow, who long ago traded their pussy hats and Bernie buttons for million dollar mansions, complete with three kids in private schools, two dogs who are walked by her live-in maid, and a leased limited edition Mercedes coupe.  One look at that three carat pear-shaped diamond on her hand tells Mitch, the sparsely-bearded former Sanders community organizer, that he's been hiking the wrong trail for the last ten years with nothing to show for it other than his father's wedding tuxedo that he borrowed for the occasion. In one instant, if he's paying attention, he'll have learned that nobody -- especially hot chicks -- chooses a flea-infested commune in Berkeley over a hot tub in Aspen as the more rewarding way of spending the rest of their lives.

Try as many drugs as you want; nothing wakes you up faster than the realization that life -- your life, in particular -- has been passing you by, made even more bitter by the fact that fewer and fewer people are sticking with your program and most are hopping the next train for their last chances of traditional happiness.  It happened to hippies in the sixties and it will happen to socialists just as predictably -- if it isn't already.

And that's why I don't worry about socialism at all. For the billionth generation in a row, nature wins again:  Women want the best providers. Men want the best women. Don't blame me if you find that sexist: that's nature's law, not mine.

Sure, Bernie likes to promise the nation's youth everything they could want.  But until he can deliver slender, curvy brunettes in high heels and string bikinis poolside, he doesn't have a chance.