Yes, I know, I know... there are thrilling primary battles being waged this evening in the Coastal Plain, and we should all be on the edge of our seats waiting to see what transpires. I'd love to stay up and watch, but I need to turn in early tonight to catch a flight tomorrow, so let me save you all some time with this pre-blogging of the results:
Victories will be inconclusive.
Nobody will drop out.
Insipid and incomprehensible speeches will drag on far too long.
Results will be spun beyond the limits of logic and decency.
The four candidates will continue sinking their teeth into each other.
Voters will experience nausea, ennui, anger, resignation, and disgust.
Talking heads will work this for every rating point they can get.
In short, nobody's going extinct anytime soon in this mire of Mesozoic mediocrity. HOWEVER... we do have some VERY important revelations to share with you.
Paleo-feminists have unearthed a startling new theory to account for the mass extinctions of dinosaur species. Based on shocking and unprecedented fossil evidence, it appears that the males of these species decided unilaterally and without provocation to subject all females to Draconian reproductive policies. In essence, females were to be bred early and often, without regard to their health or that of their offspring. Furthermore, females were restricted to their caves, barred from hunting, foraging, migrating, or other dino-doings other than maternal responsibilities.
These Cretaceous cretins, smugly gloating over achieving dominion over the female population, were utterly unprepared for what came next: a violent backlash by the newly repressed females, leaving in their wake massive carnage. Male carcasses were strewn about the countryside, bleeding, gored, slashed, and bayoneted for good measure.
The roar of the bloviating behemoth Rushosaurus limbaughii, once the only sound able to permeate the thick skulls of the Dittosaurs, fell strangely quiet. Once famed for bombastic and pyroclastic outbursts, R. limbaughii soon found that the Sponsorsaurs on which he relied as an energy source had left him for bluer pastures.
Follow along below the limbaughiian coprolite for more...
Undaunted by these developments, Struthiomimus Santorumcontinued to venerate R. limbaughii, referring to the beast's cave as a Mesozoic mecca, inflaming the passions of Christianosaurs and Islamosaurs alike. This loathsome creature had led the charge to subjugate the females based on a belief that any sexual practice not open to the constant overarching fear of reproduction would be outlawed under his reptilian regime.
S. Santorum himself lives in constant overarching fear that somewhere, someone is participating in sexual activities solely for reasons of love and mutual enjoyment, two concepts that are alien to his unevolved existence.
Buoyed by victories in the Great Inland Sea, S. Santorum imagines himself marching to the White Cave with a Mesozoic Mandate to rid the world of anything even remotely resembling fun.
Speaking of unbearably santimonious creatures who've outlived their usefulness, Brontosaurus romneii continues his fossil flip-flopping, most recently pronouncing that he is more conservative than S. Santorum. As if. He's also adopted alien vocalization patterns and camouflage in a pathetic attempt to endear himself to Dixiesaurs, who rightly regard him as little more than a food source for a communal barbecue.
This sycophantic saurian continues to remind Votersaurs of his vast wealth and half-vast vision for the country, in which women and children would be forced to subsist on Grey Poupon.
Meanwhile, the uber-tedious Stegasaurus Newtii reprises his role as the perennial spoiler, ensuring that the GOPasaurs will cross the nomination finish line and promptly expire from their self-inflicted wounds. Exuberant over carrying his home terrain of Georgia, S. Newtii will expend just enough of his energy and Casinosaurus S. Adelmanii's wealth to screw with the system and trigger a brokered convention or a broken race. Either way, he Just Does Not Care. It's all good.
This whole exercise is just for the benefit of his hyper-controlling mate, the increasingly road-weary Callistasaurus tiffanii. She's a winner either way, as her cave fills with more and more bio-bling, those sparkly bits of carbon that she cannot seem to live without. As long as she doesn't fall prey to any sort of illness, she should be the third and final Mrs. S. Newtii. In the mean time, she continues to leave claw marks on the arm of her now-subdued mate who is never more than a micron away.
Lest we forget, the septuagenarian (or is he an octagenarian by now? So much time has elapsed in this interminable campaign...) Libertariasaurus Paulii is still in the race. Paleo-pollsters hypothesize that he has no real interest in the presidency, but is working to position his offspring, NotNamedForAynRand paulii, as the vice presidential nominee, which would offset the creepiness of B. Romneii with the creepiness of this cold-blooded creature on the Unable-to-Connect ticket.
Finally, the evening would not be complete without a saurian shout-out to the Votersaurs of Alabama and Mississippi, who join millions of Votersaurs across the Craton in a time-honored process that can only be described as a Cretaceous cluster*%$#. If y'all do really get the nominee you deserve, you folks must have done something very, very bad back in the Triassic. Just sayin...