Newt Gingrich tried but failed to win the bid for the 2012 Republican nomination. His biggest victory along the way was probably winning the South Carolina and Georgia Primaries.
Honestly, Bush 43’s second term and Obama’s first term have taught me that it simply doesn’t matter who’s in the White House. America’s carnival of ignorance, chaos and calamity is going to sustain on its own course, no matter who leads it. So having a baboon like Gingrich in the oval office might even have delivered some much needed comic relief.
He is the ultimate Buzz Windrip from Sinclair Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here. Against Obama, Gingrich unleashed the tired Nixonian charges of arrogance and elitism. To his enemy on the right (Romney), Newt borrowed shamelessly from the Occupy movement and claimed Mitt was a financial predator who doesn’t pay enough taxes. While seeking to deny the marriage rights of others, he himself is a serial adulterer, leaving behind two rather heinous-sounding divorces as though they never happened. When faced with questions he doesn’t feel like answering, Gingrich whines and cries about media unfairness and liberal bias. To the raucous mongrels attending those primary debates, no comment from any candidate elicited such spontaneous joy like Newt lashing out at the media. It is his ‘Freebird’. It is his ‘Layla’. It is his ‘Stairway to Heaven’. They’ve heard it on the radio a thousand times but it’s the one song they want to hear live. It takes a special breed of man who, despite possessing the charisma of a drunken Serbian bureaucrat, looks in the mirror and says, 'Yeah, I should lead the free world. It's me they need'.
Gingrich endures. He is a magnificent specimen: a floating mass of an unidentifiable, shape-shifting synthetic substance buoying happily as he navigates the national ocean of blame, negativity and predictable, unrelenting ignorance.