“We’re fighting — not for one particular candidate or one campaign — but because each of us wants to be able to tell our kids and grandkids…that we did our best for their future, and for our country.”
– Ted Cruz
No major Republican leadership figure wants to see Donald Trump in the White House. Nevertheless, with only a handful of exceptions (most notably and honorably – John Kasich and Jeb Bush), they have either equivocated, lied, or skulked around the fringes of this humiliating circus of a convention trying to avoid being either too close or too far away from Cheeto Jesus.
Paul Ryan evaded an endorsement for weeks, then folded up his conscience, packed it away with the last tattered shreds of his dignity, and stood on stage at the convention to lead the nominating process. Marco Rubio has vacillated like a scared child, still not taking a definable position. The most sickening feature of this tawdry reality show has been the spectacle of grown men who imagine themselves powerful cowering in fear of a ridiculous bully.
Then Ted Cruz got on stage and exposed them all as a bunch of bed-wetting cowards. Like a true son of the Alamo, that unlovable bastard stood up there alone before a hostile crowd and delivered an uncompromising defense of his beliefs. He didn’t hide behind the teleprompter. He didn’t look away. He grinned that smarmy grin right at the New York delegation and told them where to shove it.
Cruz is not stupid. His move may channel the defiance of the Alamo, but it carries the strategic logic of San Jacinto. Commentators can tut all they want about the damage they think he’s done to his career. No modern nominee has won a smaller percentage of the primary vote. Ted Cruz just gave voice to the 55% of Republican primary voters who rejected Donald Trump and have been cringing through each night of this miserable Third World spectacle.
Five months from now everyone who wants to remain active in politics will be spinning their 2016 sound-bites into proof that they opposed Donald Trump. Everyone will have a story about the daring missions they carried out for the underground. Guess who will have proof that will shame them all.
If there is still a Republican Party next year, it will be Ted Cruz, not Paul Ryan, who leads it.
Tonight I find myself cheering for Ted Cruz, a frightening religious bigot for whom I would never cast a vote. November will find me stifling the urge to puke while casting my vote for a Clinton. Irony is overflowing everywhere, spilling over into muddy puddles of the absurd. Nevermind all that. Tonight I’m proud of Texas. I am proud that we produce the kind of defiant, spiteful, unbreakable courage that my political opponent displayed. The Lone Star State didn’t let me down. God bless Texas.