In Which Ironicus Engages In Projectile Prognostication

We don't mean to toot our own horn, although we feel obligated to point out that if we were to toot a horn it would necessarily have to be ours. Well, you wouldn't expect us to toot your horn would you? We don't know where your mouth has been. You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Where were we? Oh yeah, a few weeks ago we used our Madd God Divinin' Skillz to explicate the apparent dilemma posed by the fact that it appeared The Big El Jefe In The Sky had told three different people, Michele Bachmann, Herman Cain and Rick Santorum to run for president when even the most unmedicated Tea Bagger knows you only need one person to replace the Kenyan usurper. Truly a puzzler for those good christian folks doing the holy wordsearch out in the lobby while they wait for their hoverounds to be serviced, no?

Well, as a public service and to save those folks some time so they could get back to trying figure out where Casey Anthony is hiding, we offered a catechismically inspired explication using our finely honed canonical knowledge, a random number generator and most of the Stoli left in the freezer. Our take: God's screwing with you man!

So how did we do?

Michele Bachmann. Well, maybe god did tell her to run, but that part of the republican party that realizes you actually need votes to win elections apparently didn't get the memo because they have set about pointing out that even though the women is crazier than a dung beetle in a manure pile, what really disqualifies her for the position is she pops so many pills she makes Elvis look like the guy who invented the D.A.R.E. program.

Herman Cain. Come on. Really? The guy's campaign consists of Herman standing out on his porch in his robe shouting "Hey you mooslims! Get off my lawn!"

That leaves little Ricky Santorum who, if you recall from our previous post appeared to win the coveted "Yahweh Inc." patch for his racing coveralls by default. Right? Meh. Not so much.

A poll released earlier this month showed Santorum stuck at below 1 percent. On Friday, his campaign said he has raised $582,000 for his presidential bid and had less than a quarter-million dollars banked heading into next month's crucial straw poll in Ames, Iowa.

 OK, when you're stuck below 1 percent, that's pretty stuck. In fact, "stuck" doesn't seem to adequately describe your situation in this regard. Going belly up comes to mind. Road kill. Ready for the buzzard buffet. Wholeheartedly endorsed by Mr. Rigor and Mr. Mortis. Maybe you should change your slogan to Santorum 2012! Stick A Fork In Me.

Which brings us back to the tootable moment with which we opened this missive. See, you're thinking "Oh Ironicus, we know you're more interested in the temperature of the Stoli than keeping your fingers on the pulse of political and cultural movements in this once great nation state."

Yeah, well...um...well...OK that's true, but come on man, law of averages, you know? Besides, we're about to tell you who god really wants to run for president. You ready? Why it's Rick Perry of course. Didn't see that coming did you?