Dakota Beacon

I’ve been playing Fantasy Politics!  This is how it works:  you just think up a reasonable (or at least possible) scenario and see what would happen under the circumstances you invent.  I have three or four scenarios (games) going right now.

Game One:  Donald Trump manages to squeak by with 1,237 delegates and sweeps into Cleveland with a Big Win and his pledge to make us all great again.  This causes a wave of relief in the Democrat camp due to the polls showing an overwhelming disgust with the candidate, his astronomic “unfavorable” – even compared with Hillary’s.  The original plan to our hold our collective nose while they shove her down our throats goes into operation and Hillary steps over the prostrate Trump and minces into the Oval Office, where once her husband frolicked with interns.  The Republican Party, as predicted, is in shambles, perhaps not to inflate again in our lifetime.  The Supreme Court, too, will be fundamentally transformed, from a so-so divided court to one out of balance in favor of shredding the Constitution and burying the evidence

Game Two:  Overcoming the odds, Ted Cruz forges ahead and overtakes Trump in the nick of time, garnering the 1,237 on Convention Eve.  The Democrats are thrown into a vortex of anxiety.  Hillary’s super delegates get the vapors and sit out the first ballot.  She fails to win.  Bernie Sanders, too, is considered too risky to put up against Ted Cruz.  He’s been doing better with the millenials than even Bernie has.  After two ballots and no winner, some guy in the back of the room stands up at the mic and places Uncle Joe Biden’s name in contention and with a sigh of relief, the vote is taken and Biden, spiffed up in a freshly pressed dark blue suit, the customary red tie and TV makeup, comes forward to humbly accept the nomination and names his running mate.  So it’s Cruz vs. Biden.  (Say, has anyone run that poll yet?)

Game Three:  (Isn’t this fun?) Neither Cruz nor Trump manages to acquire the requisite 1,237 delegates and they go to Cleveland ready for bear.  But Priebus and Rove and the other dark powers that be in that quarter see this as an opportunity, and taking the advice of Rahm Immanuel, they don’t let it go to waste.  They find a technicality on which to deny both Cruz and Trump the prize, substituting a “fresh face” such as . . . let’s see . . . Paul Ryan?  Is his face fresh enough?  Or revert to Marco Rubio?  John Ka . . . . No!  Don’t!  Please!  I’ll die laughing!  Are there any other fresh faces among them?  That haven’t endorsed anyone else yet?  The Democrats manage to celebrate after all!  Emergency over!  Hillary walks to the podium and delivers her acceptance.  And wins.  The Republican Party is ruined for a generation, having served its base first Bush, then McCain, then Romney and then a Fresh Face no one wanted after an arduous primary season, one who never even showed up on the hustings. 

Game Four:  Trump and Cruz, despite herculean efforts, both fail to achieve that magic 1,237.  They go to Cleveland – one armed with a plan and one with an overactive Twitter account.  Guess who is positioned to take the second ballot?  No – don’t do that again!  NOT Kasich!  Nor the professional Tweet.  The Democrats gnash their teeth, break into a terminal sweat and start barking at the moon.  Neither Hillary nor Sanders can stand the disappointment and melt away like the Wicked Witch and Biden strolls up, presidentially, to accept, with sentiments for his son, who, after all made a request that his dad run.  (Has anyone done that Cruz vs. Biden poll yet?) 

I think in this game there are only two final answers – Trump loses to Hillary or Cruz beats Biden.  If you are one of those people who hates politics and would rather play games, try this one!  You might find politics more unpredictable and interesting than anything else you’ve ever tried!