If I Had Dynamite For Brains I Couldn't Blow My Mind Tonight

Very short, and not recommend worthy, maybe, but a thought tonight on the eve of the Iowa Caucuses, or Iowa Caucii as they’re being called here on Redstate tonight.  They’re certainly the most cockeyed caucii I’ve seen in a long time.

By Howard Cosell, with posthumous apologies to Howard Cosell.  I love you, Howard.  Please don’t strike me down.

It’s a heck of question to ask whether I know what’s going to happen here, people, as we go into the final rounds.  Because this is just the first round and we’ve got so many things happening now that practically the entire race ahead of us is still a murky road, a confounding collection of pits and twists and turns, and practically no practitioner of the persuasive preregotive would do anything other than to say they’re just basically stumped.  Dan McLaughlin is weighing in about Rick Santorum on the front page, Rick Santorum is seeing huge boosts from the 700 Club because of the 700 Club, and now Rupert Murdoch, and Mitt Romney and Ron Paul are locked in a dead heat in Iowa with our new contender, Santorum, who is the fourth man in a three man battle royale for the top seat in the first primary.

Then of course there’s Gingrich, that erstwhile supposed victim of a Romney-boat attack, formerly called a Wounded Wolverine by our Man of Courage Dan Rather, all driven out of himself by his own curious commentary.  All of it might mean something, but maybe not to anyone except the victors.  In the middle of a mild winter, we’ve got the serious Republican nominees locked in a dead heat here in the middle of the freezing cold, and we’re all looking for the leg warmers and good cigars.  Newt Gingrich is being a gentleman but showing that peculiar face of his, that sad square face of not knowingness, of complete befuddlement surrounded by utter confidence that appears there for some inscrutiable reason.

Romney’s people have been kicking him hard (and most of it is deserved, and reciprocally too) for a long time now.  I myself haven’t seen anything Romney’s landed below the belt.  They’re both this new kind of Republican fighting match champion flip flopper politico group led by focus groups and honed by consultantspeak.  The facetious face of our nation.  A serious group of well-monied behind the scenes figthers are there in each corner, something to chomp on and contend with, a world of pollsters and opinion seekers.  When you look to the corners you have to see those crowds of carefully selected consultants waiting to pounce like careful cats on anyone who comes across their corridor.  Santorum is, of course, a choice who deserves a voice and Rupert Murdoch is tweeting about that man’s rise in the final rounds, a stellar rebound, an incredible change of fortune right here on the cusp of the voting!  The very cusp!  Before the first punch is really thrown!  An amazing change of fortunes, but who knows who will benefit?!

We’ve got a long time ahead of us, folks and more contentious and momentous battles to come so this is just a foretaste of the Thrilla in Manila.  Rick Perry and his organization, my personal favorites, might be right at this point to hang back and not let themselves be drawn into the Republican melee.  Not at this particular time, in this pernicious place, Rick.  It’s very early.  Don’t ever let anyone tell you this is an Establishment fight – we’ve got a full street fight going on here, a real down and dirty contest of wills that makes the Establishment blanch when they think about the power of the fisticuffs being thrown back and forth.  In ordinary times the Establishment doesn’t like to get this dirty, and they’re not right now.  They want their hands off and far away from the brusing battles, they don’t want to get their sleeves dirty in this fight.  There are left hooks, there are jabs, we’ve got the Spiked Pipes(tm) and the mixed martial arts now, a kind of voodoo mixture of fighting that’s sure to bring the house down.  And the house will come down.   And they’ll be there afterward, clean and unsullied, to pick back up whatever is left of it.

As far as my predictions are concerned, please reference the title here because my prognostications (along with Howard Cosell’s) would be extremely careful and uncommitted.  I don’t know where this is going in the first round but all of our candidates are out there naked on the floor and they’re running around like modern gladiators, and we’re glad that some of them aren’t wearing clothes and most of them have no shields so it’s going to be a bloody next few rounds.

In the spirit of the strange and weird contest we find ourselves observing carefully with meticulous attention here through this blog, I invite our more careful and perspicacious observers to weigh in to the discussion but with one, primary and singular caveat:

You Must Do So In The Voice of Howard Cosell, as Best You Can

From here on out I want to hear frank contribution in only the best voices of One of the Most esteemed Sports Voices in the World.  I’m not frankly interested in listening to other peoples inane droning, I’m not worried about hearing academic discussions, I’d like to hear a raw and honest discussion, in the voice of Mr. Cosell, how we should be viewing the race as it exists right now, in all its magnitude, manifesting itself gloriously and also perhaps sadly, at this moment in front of us all.

My prediction is that there are punches that have yet to be thrown and certainly in this contest of wills many more rounds to fight.  So here we go, viewers:  channel Mr. Cosell and give us all tonight, if not your best, then your best guess as we wait until tomorrow where the first round will unfold right before us.  Here is your chance to outdo the odious, to overcome the obtuse, and to out-alliterate the alliterative and voice for yourselves, tonight Redstaters, before it’s all over, in Howard Cosell’s voice, how you think things are going to wind up.  Have at it generously and with complete confidence that nothing you say will be judged on anything other than artistic merit and sheer good sportsmanship, as it should be.

Howard Cosell must decide the first rounds of this contest if there is any God in heaven so please all you pugnacious prognosticators, shed your petty vanities and here, announce to us all on the podium your predictions.