The Pawnshop Party | Steve Sack
by Steve Timmer
Dec 27, 2012, 5:00 PM

Republican correspondence 3

Dear Pat,

Thank you for the chance to weigh in, as it were, on the future of the RPM. I mean these remarks just for your eyes only, for reasons that will become obvious upon even a casual perusal of this missive. If perchance you or your successor can attend to these thoughts, it is the undersigned’s opinion that the new chairman can bring genuinely good tidings next year at this time.

These are thoughts that came to me the other day over lunch at the Meritage — it’s on St. Peter; it’s quite good — that I could help the Party and now you have given me an outlet to do it.

I write, of course, about the infiltration and virtual take-over of the Grand Old Party by the barbarian hordes of Tea Partiers, so-called Liberty Republicans, and other Paulbot manifestations that appear in our midst. We should have been better prepared when the drummers in three-cornered hats showed up at the BPOU meetings last winter. But live and learn. The issue now before us is what can we do about this invasion?

Even though the Paulbot types were fervent in their support of Ron Paul they had no interest in races down ticket, perhaps save for Kurt Bills campaign for U.S. Senate. Bills was a Paul supporter from the get go; the whole bunch couldn’t raise money worth  a hoot. (Bill Glahn, a tea partier running for the Legislature from Edina, and who engineered the same kind of pack-the-BPOU strategy that Bills did, was the first race called called for the DFL on Election night.)

If we thought the Liberty Republicans were going to help the Party with its money problem post-Sutton, we were callow: naifs.

Now, I know, I opined on October 18th that Mitt Romney would be our next glorious president, but even I could see that Kurt Bills and Bill Glahn were losers.

The antics of this crowd continues unabated. Shouting down a Jewish Republican (although we surely suffer a surfeit of them; not really of course) at the recent central committee for asking about a holiday party with cries of “Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas!” was boorish in the extreme.

We must, Mr. Chairman, excise these lesions from the liver-spotted hide of our beloved elephant.


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