If you cup your hand to your ear, you can hear the harrumphing in the men’s grill down at the club. “Who does this Gingrich think he is? He isn’t playing by the rules! And whatever happened to St. Ron’s eleventh commandment, you know, ‘Never speak ill of another Republican?’ Can you believe he accused Mitt of earning his wealth by shutting down companies and laying off workers? That’s Communist talk. Clearly, Gingrich is only out for himself!
“Remember the last time he was in power? He almost ruined us. If, God forbid, the rabble takes over the primaries and he wins the nomination, not only would it guarantee a Democrat win, we could lose the House and the Senate filibuster as well. Then that upstart community organizer squatting in the White House would have free rein to steal our wealth and lavish it on the welfare queens.
“We never should have co-opted the tea party. The inmates have taken over the asylum. Boehner cracks his whip, and they laugh like it’s wet spaghetti! Whatever happened to wait-your-turn? Discipline? Top-down authority?”
There’s more harrumphing, and somebody orders another single-malt Scotch. “Our only hope,” they agree among themselves, “is that we managed to slip those state anti-voter fraud bills in under the radar. At least they’ll keep their rabble from voting.”