Whatever may happen in the November election, the Republican Party as we’ve known it will not exist. Its name since it succeeded the Whigs will turn up only in history books read mostly by scholars. Win or lose, a psycho named Donald Trump will be the guiding spirit for the true-believing voters who nominated him as the titular head of the new Trump Party. The long run of the Party of Lincoln will be the Party of Trump, whose birthday will be celebrated at sassy dinners each year. They’re not going away.
Ironically, some of the older celebrants won’t still be around to enjoy the fullest measure of Trumpicana. Some , like the beleaguered tagalong Sen. Rob Portman (should he win in November before taking the oath in a hardhat), will be nagged with questions about how he stood aside as an enabler to endorse a mindless billionaire.
Gloomy forecast for the Grand Old Party? Remember: These are the party regulars who didn’t take Trump seriously, or said nice things about the Tea Party, or prayed each night. They now own their destiny as an enfeebled third party.
GOP? Gutless old party?
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