Newt’s Last Stand: Dispatches From The Frontlines Of Republican Politics

[joebaur42]

As I drove down interstate 75 that day a few weeks ago, cruising through the farms and swampland of northern Georgia, moving at speeds unseen in that part of the country since the heyday of Bo and Luke Duke, I felt an unseasonable chill in the air, a chill that grew in intensity until it felt as if it was taking hold of my very bones. It was so profoundly disconcerting that I began to wonder whether I was simply feeling the effects of an odd weather pattern or if, instead, I was only now, with my goal nearly in sight, experiencing a foreboding sign, a warning being sent to me in some ghastly manner from the ultimate destination of my trip. However, after a few brief moments of terror, my steely reserve took over, I cranked the radio up, floored the gas pedal, and settled in for the home stretch.

via MildlyRelevant.com