The idea of Chris Christie running for president should have been accompanied by sitcom laughter every time someone said it aloud. He’s a fat goombah from the most reviled state in the union, who’s governed from the Left and even cuddled up to President Obama in his quest for federal disaster relief dollars. Christie’s candidacy is a massive practical joke that everyone’s in on except for him.
That includes the Leftist media, who’ve been pushing Christie to run like a Newark drug dealer pushes crack to kindergarteners. The Left knows that the GOP base find his blubbery visage and blue-state politics repulsive, making him an ideal patsy to throw the election to Hillary Clinton. The media went as far as suppressing evidence of Christie’s corruption—such as the Fort Lee lane closure scandal—in order to aid his reelection in 2013.
Much in the same way that Martin O’Malley represents the now-dead New Democrat wing of his party, Chris Christie represents the buried-and-decomposed Rockefeller Republican wing of his. Back in the 1950s, after twenty years in the political wilderness, Northeastern Republicans abandoned all pretense of being an opposition party and instead ran to the left of the Democrats. The Leftist wing of the GOP took its name from Nelson Rockefeller, the long-serving (and surprisingly effective) New York governor who famously died while purportedly in the arms of his mistress.
While wielding incredible influence during the 1950s, cracks began appearing in Rockefeller’s edifice in 1964, when his presidential campaign was torpedoed by little-known Conservative Arizona Senator Barry Goldwater. The next year, National Review founder William Buckley ran for New York City mayor under the banner of the newly-formed Conservative Party, taking 13 percent of the vote and nearly causing Republican victor John Lindsay to lose. Four years later, Lindsay was handed his walking papers when he was defeated in the GOP primary by conservative State Senator John Marchi.
The Leftist wing of the GOP completely collapsed in the 1970s, as the Rockefeller gang failed to adjust to the increasingly conservative outlook of the party’s base. Leftist Republican Senator Charles Goodell was unseated in 1970 by Conservative Party candidate James Buckley (William’s brother); Rockefeller’s successor as governor, Malcolm Wilson, was sent packing by Democrat Hugh Casey in 1974; Jacob Javits would be ousted as Senator by the Right-wing Al D’Amato in the 1980 primary. The sole remnants of Rockefeller’s influence within the party are the Northeastern governors who occasionally get elected when the dominant Democrats get a little too corrupt for the electorate’s tastes.
Chris Christie is one of those governors: his upset victory over incumbent New Jersey Democrat Jon Corzine in 2009 was a much-needed morale boost for a party still smarting from Obamamania. But a morbidly obese guido who got elected governor of New York’s dirty ashtray was never going to appeal to more than a fraction of the Republican base, and the weak turnout at his caucus morning town hall at the Drake University Law School in Des Moines proves it.
I arrived about three minutes late to the event, which hadn’t started yet. Less than a hundred people were crammed into the room and I was able to snatch a seat not too far from the front. Christie was introduced by Iowa Governor Terry Branstad, who credited him with helping increase the GOP’s gubernatorial majority in 2014 while heading the Republican Governors Association. In a break from the candidates’ usual bloviating, Christie’s speech was only ten minutes long, with the rest of the town hall dedicated to a Q&A session.
Chris Christie’s immediate problem is that he’s as physically appealing as dog vomit. Beyond his slouching bulk, his skin is covered in a revolting sheen of sweat, making me wonder how much his campaign has to spend on Wet-Naps and Axe body spray. His mannerisms are a better fit for a hot dog-eating contest then a political rally; throughout his speech, he constantly fidgeted with his mike and tugged at his Elasti-Band waistline.
Additionally, like his fellow cuckservative Jeb Bush, Christie lacks the ability to stay on track when talking to a crowd. Near the end of the town hall, he got into a shouting match with a participant who grilled him on his views on war, citing Bernie Sanders, Rand Paul, and Donald Trump as the only “non-neocon” candidates in the race. I could practically see Christie’s insulin levels drop as he ranted about what a loudmouth Trump was. At the same time, the fat man was too prissy to say the word “shit” when he raved about Trump’s plan to “bomb the s— out of ISIS,” a level of restraint that his fellow Eye-talians usually can’t manage.
Indeed, the Donald was once again the primary topic of conversation at the town hall. One of the questioners, a dweeby hipster who I initially suspected was a Leftist plant, whined to Christie about how Trump was driving moderates away from the GOP. Even as Christie deflected with a non-answer, I could see the desperation splayed across his chubby cheeks. He even had the nerve to end the town hall by claiming that he had reached “zen,” even as his jowls trembled with Trump-induced rage.
Chris Christie is right to be worried: his brand of pachyderm Leftism has no future in either party. With Trump taking the GOP in a nationalist direction and the Democrats warring between Hillary’s SJW pandering and Sanders’ retrograde socialism, there’s nowhere for the ghost of Rockefeller to go. Expecting a man who can’t even see his own loins without a mirror to revive it is like expecting skunks to start smelling like roses.
My advice for Mr. Christie: plug in your CPAP machine and hit the hay early tonight; then go back to your hellhole state and stay there.