To think that Mike Gravel couldn't even win in Alaska - somebody needs a hug.

I'll sum up Super Tuesday in one word - wahwhozzit? With only New Mexico still undecided (Obama leads by a mere 71 votes), it's becoming clear that both the popular vote and delegate counts are almost exactly even. Unprecedented and fascinatingly complex. Bomb-throwers are speculating that the Clintons will need to lend millions of THEIR OWN money to the campaign to keep things rolling over the next few weeks while the smattering of contests look to seriously favor Obama. Quite a change from the penny-ante days of Whitewater, eh? Regardless, the whole race is just starting to simmer. Hence the absolutely ridiculous statement from Hillary last night during her "victory" speech that she "won't let anyone Swift-Boat this country's future." I'm not alone in wondering just what to take from that making it to a prime-time speech. Be afraid people. Be very afraid. This is gonna get muddy.

On the GOP side, McCain's a shoo-in. Romney's a bigger flop than this season's New England Patriots. Huckabee's a barely lovable Luddite. And Ron Paul will forever be known by his tattered bumperstickers on pick-ups and second-hand Hummers just like Kucinich is immortalized by similar campaign art on rusting Subarus and bike commuters' paniers from sea to shining sea.

Hope your own Super Humpday is a landslide of fun. Rock on.

And Fred Thompson will stop a staged armed-robbery with his trusty .45 and blow the smoke off the barrel as a tear wells up in his eye.

Boy, was I wrong. Hillary apparently nailed it with women voters by showing her human side. Unlike almost every single living American spouting off yesterday about what was bound to happen in New Hampshire, I'll actually apologize. I'll never be wrong again. Promise. We should all expect the next rush to judgment will come from the same punditocracy describing Obama's demise. I should take a break from commenting and just read a few books about other things and/or begin prepping brats for this weekend's NFL Playoff game between the Packers and Seahawks. But, well...I'll just pop off briefly to keep the chops up. Barack Obama will raise cash in the next four weeks like a junkie Trump. Hillary Clinton will get back on the inevitability train, taking the occasional heart-to-heart Sanka break. John Edwards will labor on and still no one will notice. Bill Richardson will pour three fingers of single-malt and light a phattie. Dennis Kucinich will keep the Viggo Mortensen vote, lose those few thousand hippie-veggie-oil biodiesel votes. My Republic Party picks for New Hampshire were pretty close, so I'll stand pat - John McCain faces many laps worth of hurdles but pulls it out. Mitt Romney will flop all over the place like a wounded marlin. Mike Huckabee will add the surviving cast of "Hee Haw" to his celebrity cavalcade. Ron Paul will soon be riding the bus with Mike Gravel. Duncan Hunter will still be in the closet. And we'll hear about it until this fascinating election actually ain't so much anymore.

Hope your endorsements all come from the exotic dancer unions today. Rock on.

Wanna bet?

It's go time. Everyone in the political universe and their central-casting retarded cousin and/or loving wife is currently in New Hampshire, prepped and over-caffeinated before tomorrow's Primary. So I'm going to offer a hopefully tasty rhetorical biscotti to munch on while considering anyone else's at-least-as-plausible prediction. With a challenge. I'll bet all comers One Canadian Dollar to offer up their own full breakdown. The closest by points (over or under) to each individual pick, then totalled for a final score wins the Loonie. I accept PayPal. Or general kudos. Game on.

The Democrat Party
Barack Obama - 46%
Hillary Clinton - 29%
John Edwards - 16%
Bill Richardson - 7%
Dennis Kucinich - 2%

The Republic Party
John McCain - 36%
Mitt Romney - 28%
Ron Paul - 18%
Rudy Guiliani - 9%
Mike Huckabee - 7%
Random morons - 2%

You can tell what I'm feeling. Hope y'all have the popcorn ready for tomorrow's feature. Rock on.

Throwing immense piles of elephant poop

Last night's GOP debate was atrociously lame. While too many are focused on the internecine sparring, the tipping point moment was Mitt Romney saying that a President would need to "sit down with his lawyers" to determine if a pre-emptive attack on Iran was doable. Ahem. Ron Paul went apeshite and will surely see his already crazed internuts send cash by the bushels in response. Everyone else just looked horrible both before and after. Rudy Guiliani has the scariest worldview imaginable - he must be having marital problems. Again. Fred Thompson has as much of a chance of becoming President as David Spade. Duncan Hunter and Tom Tancredo both have to be gay given the Larry Craigness of their vitriolic nonsense. Sam Brownback and Mike Huckabee have the dumbest names in the history of the Republic. If any of these maniacs are our next President, we're all moving to Canada.

Hope your own debates are about chicken vs. fish today. Rock on.

And you thought Mrs. Paul's Fishsticks were full of crap...

Wolfie's almost out. Screw that prediction - he's gone and forever tarnished. The ink's just not dried yet on that "liberator". Which leads me to bet that Gonzo's also headed on a greased skid toward the exit as an unceremonious document dump Friday afternoon. The astonishingly candid James Comey testimony yesterday finally cooked his goose. Remember - you heard it here first.

I'm one of what I assume to be a few paltry dozen Americans not working for a doomed campaign to have watched last night's GOP Debate in its entirety. Then I took a shower. Even if you're one of those Bushie trollers out there waiting to pounce on my honest opinion, I'll call it straight. These are the worst Presidential candidates on either side - in toto - of my generation of duopolistic options. But MAN how do you follow the act currently on stage (translation: those loyal Bushies) if you're these doofuses? There were so many ugly moments of homophobia, fearmongering, and outright assholery that it doesn't even pay to recap. If you've got a fave, let me know. Personally, Ron "Not Mrs." Paul's strikes me as the only wingnut with balls in that cluster. Not that it will do anything for him.

Hope all the ridiculously hypothetical questions you get today feature how much ice cream sundae you'll be able to eat. Rock on.