Who wants choooowdah?

I've been to New Hampshire. Have you ever been to New Hampshire?

We were there years ago, many years ago, in Portsmouth, to film a stupid car commercial. I won't divulge the name of the company suffice to say the premise of the spot was to introduce a new vehicle with more than 400 horsepower. And to do that we staged a ridiculous demonstration that involved the car on a dynamometer and an entire seaside village being run off the power of its big bad engine.

If I'm not mistaken this was only after we asked the residents not to use their microwave ovens, portable heaters or televisions.

It was a shameless charade. Much like tonight's New Hampshire primary.

Who do I like in tonight's contest?

Who cares who I like?
Who cares who you like?
Who cares what the voters in Portsmouth including the lady that served us that great homemade clam chowder, likes?

One Democratic candidate will eventually prevail. And the sooner the better, so we can stop with the bickering and the divisiveness and start with the unifying and the dismantling of our current fascist regime.

Bernie? Great.

Kobluchar? Perfect.

Warren? Why not?

Biden? Fine.

Buttigeg? Works for me.

Yang? Yes.

Bloomberg? Sure, whatever.

I'm not picky right now. This country will figure out a solution to healthcare, only after we've exhausted every other option.

Similarly, our scienticians will solve the climate change issue.

And one these candidates might even get around to addressing our crumbling infrastructure.

The point is there is a larger issue, one that is more pressing that all the others. We have to restore the Republic. We have to let the grownups back in the room. And, as Bill Maher has presciently suggested, we have to be prepared for the fight of our lives when Grandpa Ramblemouth refuses to accept the decision of the voters on November 3rd and threatens to call in the military, the police and the bikers.

You know, his tough guys.

If failed candidate and confirmed loony lady Marianne Williamson wanted to serve her country, she should start gathering up her crystals and burnt sage and put a nasty, pus-filled coronavirus hex on Captain Ouchie Foot.

Now!