Newt
Gingrich, the masquerading musketeer of morals, has called it quits. He announced
last week that he would suspend his campaign, and today announced he will
endorse Mitt Romney to take on Obama in November. His last electoral victory
coming in South Carolina, the only way to describe Gingrich’s decision would
be: about damn time.
Perhaps
the worst candidate this season who threw his name into the hat, Gingrich leaves
behind nothing more than a bad taste in the mouths of the American public. He wasn’t
the dumbest, he wasn’t the angriest, he wasn’t the craziest and he wasn’t the
least qualified candidate running; but he was the worst. He wasn’t fun at all. He
was offensive. He didn’t make sense. He toed the unfavorable line between
reality and fiction (moon colonies, seriously?) and he paid because of it. And worst
of all was that he was never genuinely interested in what he was doing. He's just a fat and lazy prick who refused to go quietly into the night, and we'll hate him because of that forever.
There
was that brief moment when we thought he stood a chance, but that came and went
faster than dirt in the wind. The monumental defeat that was the Gingrich
campaign seemed to drag on forever, bleeding out but never wising up. He waited
too long to quit. Had he ended earlier he could have been considered as a
running mate. But now the American audience has caught scent of what Gingrich
really is: a leech. He latches onto anything he thinks will make him better off, bleeding
his host dry before moving onto the next victim.
I
will not miss Newt Gingrich like I miss Santorum or Perry. I will not hold him
in contempt like I do Cain or Bachmann. Truthfully, I will forget about
Gingrich as soon as he’s gone. That’s the fate he’s sealed for himself. He’s
neither a tragic hero nor a graceful loser. At the end of the day, he’s just a
nobody.
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