Presidential Cat and Mouse

How to explain the Democrats' presidential primary?

Easy. Tom and Jerry.

No, not the drink (although that might help). I mean the old Hanna Barbera cartoon. The cat and mouse.

There’s one old scene in particular that I remember: Tom chasing Jerry through the house, smacking him repeatedly with a long metal spatula. Bam! Bam! Bam! Jerry rounds a corner, and once Tom finishes skidding the area rug into a corner, he’s waiting for the cat with a pan. Bwong-ong-ong-ong-ong-ong.

Now: just replace Tom with Barack Obama, and Jerry with Hillary Clinton. Except, instead of hitting each other, they keep hitting themselves.

Election 2008.

Let the record show, if you please: I’m not aware of any racist or misogynist overtones to cats and mice, either cartoon or real.

Is anybody else absolutely fascinated by this primary? Don’t answer that – you don’t have to. I know the answer. You’re as fascinated as I am.

We can't stop talking about it. We can't stop writing about it.

Hey! Democrats! What the hell are you thinking?

It's a mystery as to why we should ask. Why it should matter to us – conservatives, Republicans, or both.

Well, maybe it isn't – maybe it's just plain human nature. Still, for us on the Right to sit around gossiping the way we are, like we're…I dunno, concerned or something – you can see why some on the Left might think we're being facetious. Sarcastic. A little less than sincere.

Why should we keep pointing out the Democrats' perpetual dysfunctionality? Why not just let them go along their merry neurotic way, and reap whatever benefits might come of it?

I have a theory. I dub it: "The Tom and Jerry Theory."

The Democrat primary is like cartoon violence: watching someone get hit with a cast iron pan, or dropped from a cliff, or swallowing a lit firecracker wouldn't be funny if it were real. But it isn't real. And it is funny.

Or maybe it’s more like rubbernecking: car accidents aren’t funny – not even a little – but we can’t help looking at them, even if it means clogging up the road for a couple seconds longer.

Like any kind of disaster footage: we feel awful for the people involved, we hope it never happens to us, but we can't stop watching.

It's Curly, getting his arm stuck in the turkey he's supposed to be preparing for dinner, and Larry trying to rescue him. Curly pulls one way, straining. Larry pulls the other way, struggling to keep his grip. You know what's coming: that turkey's going to fly across the room at the very moment that Moe walks in the door. Smack! Right in the kisser.

And you know the nose-pulling, eye-poking, head-bonking hilarity will quickly follow afterward.

That's the Democrats' presidential primary.

It's a train wreck, but it's not our train wreck. It's a catastrophe, but it's not our catastrophe. It's America's Funniest Home Videos. It isn't us tripping over the rake and falling into the kiddie pool full of snapping turtles. We're on the sidelines, uninvolved, unhindered by any direct stake in the outcome.

I admit: this kind of fascination isn't the most desirable of human behaviors. But…well, there it is.

Of course, in the real world, the Democrats' train wreck is our train wreck. One of the two remaining Democrat contenders could, all my mockery aside, very well become President.

That's a personal stake.

For example: when America went looking for a head coach, half the nation's Democrats settled on the guy running the laundry room. Every other candidate – all of them, Democrat or Republican, still in or dropped out – is more qualified to be President than Barack Obama.

Kinda risky, dontcha think?

So the Democrats' dysfunction affects us all. That's not necessarily bad: they're going all-out to damage each other while our guy basks. They're using up resources while we stockpile ours. That's no guarantee of November victory, but it helps. Things look better now than they did three months ago. They look better than we thought they would.

So. Sit back. Pop a beer. Enjoy the show.

I am.