God Closes Michele Bachmann Door, Opens Joni Ernst Window
Today, in the gloom ofthe morning after, we must come together to give thanks to our assorted heathen gods for Joni Ernst, Jester-Elect of the United States Senate.
Joni Ernst is an anchor for us to cling to in the midst of a turbulent midterm election that saw our electoral expectations decimated all across the country. Kansans, the majority of whom had been demonstrably screwed by Sam Brownback's interpretive dance of conservative budgeting, at first seemed to poised to sensibly fire him but then rewarded him with another term in office. Massachusetts, having apparently forgotten the hideous ordeal of getting gay marriage and socialized health care under Mittens Romnington, decided to roll the dice with another Republican governor.
Joni Ernst alone among the Republican winners last night bolstered our faith in one of our most cherished beliefs: that the forces of nature and politics can cohere in any electoral climate to propel a folksy, anti-intellectual, bomb-throwing pitbull of a midwestern Republican lady to Washington to keep rational discourse from occurring uninterrupted in Congress.
When the platonic ideal of this concept, Michele Bachmann, told us she was leaving us, we tried not to take it personally. Sure, she had to do it to get out from under the House Ethics Committee, but it felt like there was almost no point in going on, especially when we'd based our master's thesis on the cumulative snark-related economic activity her career had generated.
That is why we are so happy to welcome Jester-Elect Ernst to the Wonkette family. Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of Bachmannlessness, we will fear no lack of material; the sound of Joni Ernst castrating hogs while she laughs about her hours slaving on the biscuit line will comfort us. We are certain that, despite all appearances, her Cruella de Vil laughter during her victory speech was not prompted by fond memories of secretly killing and feeding the fryer guy to her Hardee's customers all those years ago.
You can follow Beth on Twitter. She'll be the one squinting suspiciously at the electoral wasteland beyond the boundaries of Washington, DC.