Gingrich is not materially different from Trump, Bachmann, Perry or Herman Cain. He is another clown with a slightly different brand. The only meaningful question is whether the thing that trips Newt up will be his past, his faulty brain-mouth filter or the crickets and spiders that live in empty storefronts where his campaign organization ought to be.
And no, there will be no Huntsmanmania when Newt! throws an axle some time in late Hannukah (Or Fred Kargermentum, in case you were wondering). Huntsman already played enough contrarian cards to enjoy the Amish treatment for the rest of his short political career. If I were Rick Santorum, though, I might start to wonder whether my turn on the hotseat might not line up in a convenient way with Iowa or South Carolina.
The Ron Paul-mentum admittedly took me by surprise. In my defense though, the guy has so much crazy going on that he stands out even in a crowd of demented haters, liars and losers. His will not be the Perry or Cain chardonnay hangover that builds over time and leaves you sore and queasy while trying to stay lucid at church group. The Paul hangover will be a grain alcohol skullbreaker that hits like a train and passes in a blacked-out blur, the kind that leaves people wondering whether it was real and, much later, lets them deny that it happened at all.
If I had to guess about Iowa, I would stick to my bet that Santorum will win the lottery and peak just in time to beat Romney in Iowa and then sink quietly beneath the
santorum radar before any other significant primary comes along. Romney will sheepishly claim the mantle like everyone knew he would, and the party will piss and moan and line up behind their guy just like Democrats did behind Walter Mondale in ’84.