The savior of the GOP

Well, that crazy Hoosier nails it again.

Look, don't get me wrong; I've lived through the political popularity of Ronald Reagan and Mitch Daniels, and at least three resurrections of Richard Nixon. I know anything's possible. I also know that Marco Rubio can take all the soundings he wants, train his crew 18 hours a day, and buy the best admiral's hat he can find, and his boat will still be on the rocks, and the scuppers overflow'd, and the only functioning lifeboat will already contain the Koch brothers, Rush Limbaugh, and two or three anti-abortion activists waving Bushmasters. I look forward to his finessing that for the next three years.

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The Republican party is frickin' insane, to the point that Insanity is the party's signature principle. The current Republican message isn't "smaller government" (and perhaps the party would be better off if they'd been called on that little fiction thirty years ago); it's "feces-hurling psychosis". The proper venue for that message is "Post-war apocalyptic hellscape." Marco Rubio's not ready for his closeup, but his party ain't ready for even small adjustments, and small adjustments ain't gonna get the job done.

It's kinda weird.  I start sweating getting out of bed this morning, so I felt profound empathy as I watched the tell-tale twitch that indicated Rubio was feeling the beads of sweat were tickling his temples.  And for the next 10 minutes Madame Cura and I couldn't help ourselves from just sympathetically talking over his remarks, as we considered  this remarkable performance that only reminded everyone of Jindal and Ryan's similar deer in the headlights moment.  So we, just like pretty much every other American watching, didn't hear his worn out, loopy, fun-house description of the socialist tyranny of the Obama administration and his rote recital of Republican tropes that are proven failures.