Newt Gingrich is the biggest asshole of the last 50 years, including Nixon. Looking in the mirror he sees an erudite statesman-scholar, ladykiller and confidante to the wealthy, while everyone else sees a corpulent, delusional millionaire toad waddling around,  shrieking into microphones about people being unfair to him. His father abandoned him – i.e. a total asshole, probably genetic – his mother (16 when she had him), was a manic depressive, is clearly genetic (Newt’s psychotic self-obsessed notebook doodles remind me of the hand-written tirades/manifestos illustrative of manic and/or sociopathic episodes), his stepfather was a rageaholic military guy. Why do these sadsacks with tortured pasts always impose themselves on the rest of us by pushing themselves through into powerful, controlling, positions? Young Newt was fat and Mr Magoo-sighted with a ballooning head and inch thick coke bottle glasses. He had an affair – and later married  – his high school Geometry teacher, for Christ’s sake, that’s just creepy. Then there were the marriages, the depressions, the unprecedented ethics censure from his colleagues, his sanctimony in giving high-minded speeches about family values all the while getting blow jobs in the parking lot (also symptomatic of manic-phase bipolar). Everyone hates him, I mean all leadership Republicans hate his guts. Still, it’s nice to see the Republican party trying to liven things up and give us some variation your run-of the mill antisocial personality disorder. I’d enjoy seeing Gingrich humiliated in the general, the “great debater” bloviating bullshit he can’t back up with facts, and watching the true intellectual blow him back to  but I guess I really don’t want him so close to the big prize. The idea that there is a possibility that the land that I love considers this guy worthy of the presidency, I mean, I’d sooner vote for a poodle with Asperger’s. It falls into that “does not compute” category, where it’s so bizarre that nothing in my experience up until now has prepared me for it. As if I had just witnessed a semi-truck carrying a fleet of PT Cruisers being carried off by a pterodactyl, or a hayride full of chipmunks barreling down the freeway. So this is what bipolar feels like.