Donald Trump won the Nevada Republican Caucus yesterday, with a slightly larger share of the vote than Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio combined. He’s won in the South, in New England, and now in the West, and he damn near won in Iowa. Unless something completely different happens six days from now—massive Super Tuesday party at my house, you guys—he will win the Republican nomination. One way for something different to happen would be if a candidate now vying for second place dropped out and threw his support behind the other. But that seems unlikely when one of those candidates is Ted Cruz, who I’m sure is fully prepared to accept Rubio’s endorsement for the good of the party.
I went to the Western Montana State Fair and Rodeo last night, where I remembered that the experience of American culture varies wildly from person to person. For one thing, this year’s clown sucked. His first interaction with the audience was built around the joke, “can a bald man get a hairline fracture?” Fertile comic ground though it was, we did not respond, so he launched immediately into one of those math tricks that involves thinking of a number, adding six, dividing it by three, subtracting the original number, et cetera. Math tricks! Fortunately, he won us back with a dog routine. The people behind us went insane, occasionally describing what was happening with gleeful incredulity—e.g., “He can’t get out!” when the clown get stuck upside-down in a garbage can—and generally reminding us of the values of a bygone era. Today is Friday, and a substantial portion of the populace loves Milton Friedman and Dennis the Menace. Won’t you focus your nostalgia on an age that never existed with me?