In an incisive analysis of flip-floppers, Jonathan Chait over at New York Magazine delivers a colorful picture of two presidential candidates Mitt Romney and Newt Gingrich (Ron Paul did not make the cut, presumably because it’s difficult to pin a flip-flop donkey tail on him):
The robotic consistency of Romney’s newfound conservatism does contrast sharply with Gingrich, who lurches between hysterical right-wing paranoia and bouts of bipartisanship. And yet the erratic character of Gingrich’s swings suggests that they’re unplanned, and thus that they spring from actual conviction, albeit momentary convictions. Gingrich actually believes what he is advocating at the moment he is advocating it. Nobody can plausibly say the same of Romney.
Romney is the handsome swindler who plots to win your mother’s heart and make off with her fortune. Gingrich is like the husband who periodically gets drunk and runs off to spend a week with a stripper in a low-rent motel but always comes home in the end. Which one would you rather see your mother marry?
Gosh, tough choice. Neither.
The analogy is hardly helpful, since we are not in the habit of letting children elect their fathers in this country. Nor does the office of president come with the privilege of having sex with everyone’s mother. Yet somehow I am now going to have the joy of contemplating one of these men feeding a tube steak to the woman who used to pick up my toys every time I ponder the country’s political future.
Even with Herman Cain out of the race somehow we as a media culture are still proud to deliver unnecessary marital awareness in the midst of serious issues of war, bankruptcy and rampant corruption. Thanks Jonathan Chait, you slightly creepy fuck.
For the record, here are the women who are actually married to these candidates. I’ll bite my tongue for once and simply introduce them alphabetically: Callista Gingrich, Carol Paul, and Ann Romney.
Oh who the hell am I kidding? I can’t help myself.