The inimitable Charles Pierce starts here…

Both Willard Romney and Rick Santorum — and have I mentioned recently what a colossal dick the latter is? — ought to thank their personal deities that they’re not racehorses. Because, if they were, and given the way they’re both limping towards the finish line in Michigan and Arizona today, we’d already have the screen up, the syringe at the ready, and the veterinary ambulance discreetly parked off to one side….

And he ends here…

A party that dedicated itself long ago to the notion that government is the problem has finally run out of reasons why we should allow them to run the government they so insist they despise. A party that dedicated itself long ago to the politics of expedient division has finally run out of credible tactics through which they can pretend to unite us. A party that dedicated itself long ago to placating the social fears and paranoia of the people whose money they were relentlessly shipping upwards to the folks at the top of the food chain has finally run out of distraction and misdirection. (Willard Romney seems to have settled on a campaign theme of, “Yeah, I’m rich. Deal with it, proles.”) All they have left now, lying there on the track with the ambulance idling lowly off to one side, is each other, and, god knows, that’s all they really deserve.

And when he is finished, there’s really nothing else left to be said.

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