I am bereft. I yield to no one — not a single orange-cap-wearing, twentysomething vegan Deaniac — in my disappointment over Howard Dean’s Iowa debacle.
Sure, he was their hope. But he was mine too. Dean as Democratic nominee promised not just happiness, but glory: a Republican landslide of biblical proportions. Big majority in the House. And so many coattailled new senators that Bush could have begun repopulating the Supreme Court with 42-year-old conservatives (like Miguel Estrada) who would serve forever.