Have you been following the transition of John Kasich from crabby governor to mild and mannered presidential candidate to hardscrabble evangelical preacher to a boastful human ode to the common man?

Probably not. I haven’t noticed that the hometown papers nor the national pundits have picked up on his slick morphing to gain ground as a blessedly good white guy in the wilds of New Hampshire.

All things being relative, Kasich is now being heralded by some writers as the lone civilized carom away from Donald Trump and some other guy named
Cruz. In the modern media-driven age hurriedly built on fresh material to satisfy viewers and readers, his newly created style points have projected him as a “moderate”.

A moderate?

And so, dear readers, I must move more deeply into the confusion by asking whether a moderate would pledge to defund Planned Parenthood “like crazy” or put it entirely out of business if possible.

Or massage workers in Bow, N.H., by asking whether a blue- collar kid like him as the son of a mailman would be more sympathetic to workers than to “rich people”?

That one’s easy: the rich people, of course. .As POLITICO reported: Some of the biggest supporters to his Super PAC have relationships with him that have generated ethics complaints.

Among the biggest donors are companies doing business with his administration, including mining interests. That might be more than a clue to why he said at an energy conference “we are going to continue to work on cleaning coal, but I want to tell you, we are going to dig it, we are going to clean it and we are going to burn it in Ohio and we aren’t going to apologize for it.”

That arrives at the same bullying latitude as when he openly called a cop an idiot for pulling him over on a traffic stop. Or when he referred to Californians as wackadoodles. Or when he warned that anybody who didn’t go along with his policies would be run over by the bus.

They said he is fully at peace with himself because the Lord is now in charge of his campaign to lead him to greater heights.(Not a pun!)

With that sacred rite of passage, if this guy should ever be sworn in as president, the ceremony might be staged in Ernest Angley’s Grace Cathedral in Cuyahoga Falls..

On election day the smoke rising from the chimney would not match blue collars but the starchy white of the big board rooms. Shouldn’t the swooning pundits get off their butts and find out some of these things for themselves.?


Reprinted from Grumpy Abe