A Letter To South Carolinians

My dear South Carolinian friends:

Tell me. Is Newt Gingrich is holed up in some five-star hotel somewhere with a bottle of brandy, wishing like heck somebody would put a muzzle on That-Woman-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless?

I imagine getting an endorsement from her is like having Charlie Sheen as a character witness for Tiger Woods in a divorce trial.

You could make the argument that That-Woman-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless has slept with one too many commercial ventures. Her brand ain’t what it once was. That’s not entirely her fault. We suffer from shiny-thing syndrome in this country. The 15-minutes of fame has been pared down to 5-minutes, but she may not have helped herself with that great Alaska adventure show.

Oh. Well. She’s not the only Evangelical running scared that a Mormon might be the GOP’s front-runner. The much-respected George Barna came out last week and said after much prayer and research he’s supporting Newt as the GOP’s candidate. Barna credited Newt’s plan for protecting religious freedoms as one of the deciding issues for him. I’m all for protecting religious freedoms as long as that means all religions and not just the one I practice.

But not every Evangelical is jumping aboard the Newt bandwagon. Staying true to his maverick spirit of the Wild West, James Dobson has reportedly stopped short of calling Calista Gingrich a floozy. I know, right? The HuffPo is reporting that Dobson referred to Newt Gingrich’s wife as a mistress.

Ah, I know none of this is going to come as a surprise to those of you employed in churches. Nobody gets down and scrappy like the Saints. If you ever get a hankering for politics outside an election year all you have to do is serve on some church committee. That’ll cure what ails you.

While Mitt Romney, on the heels of his not-much-in-speaker fees comment ($375,000 last year), tries to get in-touch with his blue-collar side, Gingrich is sharpening his wit for the next debate. Politico gives a nice recap of Gingrich’s best zingers from the last one.

Ah, my dear South Carolinian friends, I’d stick around to discuss this further, but I need to make a run to the store. Every good bar brawl demands a little bit of tequila and I’m fresh out.

But while I’m away, why don’t you sit back and enjoy the GOP version of how to get down with Tequila?