A man called Kevin

Kevin McCarthy, giant of the House. He’s definitely going down in history. Just not the way he thinks.

Going down: That’s an apt phrase in a couple of ways. There’s the history thing, sure, and then there’s other thing that could be seen as enthusiastic abasement for the gratification of someone else. 

But let’s not dwell on that unpleasant image. Let’s dwell on another: Kevin standing nude on the House floor, dancing a jig to the Hokie Pokie, his dangly bits aflutter. By my analysis, that’s the only concession he had left to finally convince the likes of MaGaetz and Lobo to sign off on his new gig.

Will Kevin last long as Speaker of the House? Who cares? He’s already ceded any power the post might confer to the above-named bomb throwers and their fellow travelers. His pitch, “If you make me leader, I promise not to lead,” is not the deal-closer he imagined. The only reward for his time in the barrel will be a little more time bent over one.

When this is all over, it’ll be time for Hunter Biden 2.0, an incoherent quest to jail Dr. Fauci, and anything else likely to harvest more funds and outrage from the Q-besotted rabble. In terms of actual legislation, this House will be lucky to rename a rutted highway for their patron saint.

In times like this, it’s tempting to think that maybe the Founding Fathers overlooked a few key details.