Remember that bad hair day Custer had at the Little Big Horn? Hold that thought for a moment. We’ll come back to it. How ‘bout John Nash? Do you know game theory? Did you see the movie, “A Beautiful Mind?” Hold that one for a moment, too. Let’s begin here:

GOP insiders say two of Warner’s recent appointments -- Warren Barry to the Virginia Alcoholic Beverage Control Board and Sherry Crumley to the board of the Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries -- may not receive General Assemblly confirmation, that they are targeted for some political one-ups-manship, so much so that they may actually fall victim to GOP vindictiveness when the House and Senate convene in January.

Can you spell r-e-t-r-i-b-u-t-i-o-n? You win the prize!

Of the two, Barry’s sins are the more obvious. An iconoclast to begin with, and as independent as a hog on ice (God bless him!), Barry had the temerity to endorse, and actively support, Warner during the campaign -- the lone Republican in the 22 Republican majority Senate to do so. Not only that, but he supported Cathy Belter, the Democrat, in the scramble to fill the 37th Senate District vacancy created when he stepped down to take the $103,000 ABC post.

Of course there is precedent. Gilmore, in brilliant tactical moves, did the same thing. Twice. Before the howling died down over Democrat Charlie Waddell, the singing senator who Gilmore lured into retirement by dangling a high-paying slot at VDOT, he turned around and did the same thing in the House, coaxing Democrat David Brickley to a plum job at Conservation and Recreation.

Not only was it tactically brilliant -- Democrats lost both seats and Republicans picked them up in the specials that followed -- it was also relatively cheap. Folks, you couldn’t beat with a $1 million campaign can be bought out for a $90,000 job. Spell that one r-e-t-i-r-e-m-e-n-t. The state retirement system calculates monthly benefits based on the average salary for your last three years of service. You can spend 22 years in the legislature at $18,000 a year, take a high-paying slot for three years and retire with 25 years of service. The computer that writes the checks doesn’t know that you didn’t spend the entire time at a hundred grand a year.

Lots of former legislators, and sitting ones, know how to do the math on that one, and I thought Barry’s appointment was a deserved one, for lots of reasons, and said so, but from a purely tactical perspective, it was, with hindsight, a blunder. Like so much in politics, this is one of those instances where no good deed goes unpunished. Warner did the right thing, but trading Barry for Cuccinelli, the new, self-appointed leader of the glassy-eyed, rabid right ... well … if you need further explanation on that, get the chalkboard out and we’ll draw you a picture.

The Crumley appointment is shaded a little differently. No pun intended. She and her husband are the Treebark camouflage clothing folks and part of the now-famous “rural strategy” consortium that former Warner campaign manager Steve Jarding and Roanoker Dave “Mudcat” Saunders are taking national with North Carolina Sen. John Edward’s fledgling presidential campaign.

Crumley, who chaired “Sportsmen For Warner” -- those tobacco-chewing, gun-totin’, deer hunting, by-Gawd Democrats with whom I claim affectionate affiliation -- replaced Carson Quarles, the sitting chairman, and Quarles has been lobbying (read that “wailing”) ever since about the injustice of it all, blubbering non-stop about the so-called “unprecedented” way he was unceremoniously dumped before his term ended.

Which is why I prefer public, ceremonial firings. Let’s bring the band out, and set the cameras up next time. And then give him the boot. With fanfare! George Allen knew how to do it. Wait until Christmastime!

Memo to Carson: That seat is not yours by birthright. For further reference, please see dictionary listing for “shall serve at the pleasure of the Governor.”

Finally, we come to the irony section of this column. There could be some upside to all of this, even from a Democratic perspective. You see, a Republican ambush on these two appointments, as distasteful and outrageous as that would be, could be positive in that it might finally relegate the Theory of Non-Partisanship to where it rightfully belongs -- the same dustbin in which cold fusion now rests. (Remember that one? We’re going to take a quart of water and turn it into two gallons of gasoline! Or some such.)

Which brings us to John Nash and game theory. Nash, of course, shared the 1994 NobeI Prize in economics for a 27 page paper he wrote as a student in 1950. I defer, momentarily, to Nash friend and colleague, Avinash Dixit, University Professor of Economics, Princeton:

Game theory studies interactive decision-making, where the outcome for each participant or “player” depends on the actions of all. If you are a player in such a game, when choosing your course of action or “strategy” you must take into account the choice of others. But in thinking about their choices, you must recognize that they are thinking about yours, and in turn trying to take into account your thinking about their thinking, and so on.

Say whaaaaat?

Let me give you the English version: Game theory suggests that the players in any game will ultimately act in their best interests, taking into account the interests of all the other players. On the surface, game theory is simple. And it has been around for a long time. Just didn’t carry that label. Remember Soloman and his decision to cut that baby in half, and what subsequently happened? Classic game theory set-up.

So, what will happen? Depends. On the players. Who are the pertinent ones? In my view, Bill Howell, the new speaker, Morgan Griffith, the majority leader, and the block of nineteen freshmen. The skills they bring to this game will carry the day. The question they must answer is: What is in out best interests? Simple question. The answer can seem complicated. But my money is on Nash. In the end Barry and Crumley will be confirmed.

I will hedge slightly. Game theory, almost all macroeconomic theory, for that matter, presumes rationality -- a rare commodity in Richmond on some days.

What’s the lesson for Warner in all of this? Is there one? Sure there is. Remnants of it can still be found at the Little Big Horn:

It is not those three or four smiling Indians you follow into the gulch that you have to worry about. It’s the two thousand lying in the weeds waiting on you that you need to look out for.

Theory or no theory, they don’t have your best interest at heart.