Thursday, March 17, 2016

Mr. Yeats and Mr. Trump

So here we go.

If this turns into a brokered GOP convention, I am hoping there is some Irish TV station with the instinct and the courage to broadcast it live. I don't care what time it is on over here. I'm staying up to watch it. I'm a political science geek, and if the Republican Party is going to have a nervous breakdown on national television, I want to watch while it takes place.

No American major-party convention has been gaveled to order with the nomination unsettled since 1948. Heavy hitters in the Republican party are now working very hard, and investing major resources, to make sure that happens. Should be fascinating. Pass the popcorn.

Below, one hypothetical set of pathways to (my) dream convention in Cleveland. All of them assume that my prayers are answered, and the Fascist candidate's boat loses some steam between now and what promises to be an epic California primary:


Something that has gone largely unreported, as far as I can tell anyway, is the massive impact California's Republican voters will have on the outcome of this race. As a native Californian, I can tell you that there are decades of resentment about the state's late placement in the primary season, and the unfairness of the country's most populous state having the least-heard voice in the selection of presidential nominees. That changes this year, with the state's primary shaping up as an Armageddon-like battle for the soul of the party. One can only pray that the last moderate standing, John Kasich of Ohio, emerges as a sane alternative to the two demonic alternatives on the Golden State's ballot. (I would not vote for Kasich, mind you, but I do fear for the country if either of the other two men head a major-party ticket.)

One of the perils of a brokered convention is its built-in necessity of back-room deal-making. Not all of those deals would preclude the nomination of the Fascist candidate. It is entirely possible that the Fascist candidate and Senator Cruz could simply shake hands and confirm an agreement to give Cruz the vice-presidential slot, in which case the last remaining moderate would go down without a fight, the insanity of the American body politic this year would be confirmed, and the smell of sulfur would intensify.

My pick for celebrity commentator for a brokered Republican convention would be W.B. Yeats, who predicts its sad outcome for me here: