Virginia's Real Politics
A guide to news, commentary and resources in Southwest Virginia

It has been a summer of discontent for the Republicans. The eavesdropping scandal? God, how hot it blew! How quickly it cooled and paled into oblivion. Oh, to wish. Wouldn't life be wonderful and innocent again if all we had to deal with was the telephone thing?

Now we have drama. And power. And sex. And righteousness. And intrigue. And enough breast beating to fan the Sahara into a chill. Where is Shakespeare when we need him?

So, here's the deal, Frank. First, Vance is tough. Don't underestimate him. Don't be lulled by those gapped teeth, and that slicked backed hair and that mumble that goes for articulation. He's made a career out of being underestimated. Already he's over the first hurdle. He bought some time. He's got a week. That initial venting is done and he's still standing. What a piece of work! What as sublime piece of strategy! Brilliant!

You can thank Tony Troy for that one. I can hear him now. "We've got to depressurize this thing. Let 'em blow for a while." He's as wily as an old coyote, that Troy is.

And Vance has got that block of freshmen beholden to him. Don't forget them. Nineteen of them.

Now, Frank, let us consider the wannabes. Morgan Griffith. I don't think so. First, there is his marital separation. And he's so young. Who wants to put up with him for 30 years? And he's got that style that's as stiff as his new wingtips. And he wants it so bad. God, does he want it! Desire oozes from his pores. You can't let that show. It shows on Morgan. I don't think so.

Vince Callahan. Well. Remember that stupid Brute gig he did on the floor for some many years? Remember that last one? It went off in his face like a bomb. Of course, there was that tearful apology the next day. But that knocks him out of it. Can you imagine John Warren Cook crying on the floor? A.L.? Forget about it.

There is Bob McDonnell, the cerebral leader of that bunch of glassy-eyed believers from Virginia Beach. What about him? Close. But no cigar. Besides, he wants to be Attorney General.

Where is Jack Rust when we need him? Oh, that's right. He got beat by some no-name. You can't be Speaker unless you're a member of the House. What a shame. Rust could have pulled it off.

Aaah. Lacy. That brings us to Lacy. The gentleman from Bedford. Putney's got the goods. Senior man. What? Forty years? Good transitional guy. Good compromise guy. Won't be around forever. Might be a sort of balm on things.

Discipline your troops, Frank, lock them down, bind them, and you and the Democratic Caucus can decide who makes it to the prom. Of course, it will be like herding cats. That was always the problem with the Democrats in the House. But, hey! You're the man! You can do it. What is it? Thirtysomething of you? Don't forget that block of nineteen freshmen. And don't underestimate Vance. My guess is he'd be in a trading mood these days. They all will be.

Understand that there won't be succession unanimity in the Republican Caucus. Too many factions. They don't know how to manage themselves out of this one in a way that will make sense. Open the talks now. Let them court you. Let them woo you. And make the best deal you can.

And, Frank, for heaven's sake, don't underestimate Vance. You could do worse, you know.

Your thoughts?