The American Spectator

Things are getting pretty weird out on the campaign trail now that the official voting season is an entire week old.

On the Republican side, daily reports of the demise of one candidate or another, based on the proclivities of a few thousand voters, leave one with the impression that madness has gripped the Beltway. It’s as if even recent electoral history — unless easily summed up in a brief sound bite — is to be totally ignored; a strange way of thinking for those under the sign of the elephant.

Meanwhile, in the donkey party, the behavior is becoming, well, asinine. The great Howard Dean-like worship of Barack Obama by college kids and others of similar political immaturity is leading many to call the contest early as well: The queen is dead, long live the queen!

Yes, there are even loonies who claim that he would be our first woman president.

All of this has left a certain little lady feeling a bit down in the mouth. So somewhere up in chilly New Hampshire, a woman of a certain age and very close to tears, is feeling just a tad under the weather:

INTRO

p>After one whole week of voting, br> Things are not what they should be. br> By this time I should be gloating br> All over TV. /p> p>Working for my coronation, br> I’ve done pretty well, I think. br> But this dog-gone nomination br> Has me on the brink.