Why Are People Mean?

Meanness is abundant.

It lives in the car at the intersection, the checkout line at the grocery, the cop on the beat.
It lives under burkhas and in churches, in alleyways and mansions.

But meanness is a peculiarly human institution. Dogs are not mean, unless they are mistreated by humans. The animal world is not unkind to itself. They do not take potshots at other individuals just for fun. They don't have egos. They don't hold grudges. They don't kill for sport.

Fidel Lopez endured unbearable cruelty at the hands of his attackers at the flashpoint at Florence and Normandy during the LA Riots of 1992. He has lived a subdued life, without bitterness; but his life was irrevocably altered, from promising, to difficult. He has suffered the after-affects and his family have born the years of desperation and recuperation that resulted from their losses.

Rev. Bennie Newton, saved his life. Holding a Bible aloft, he warned rioters: "Kill him, and you have to kill me too."

Another story that caught my attention today, the same day, was a brief about a woman who was starved, beaten and tortured in Afghanistan AT THE AGE OF 15 - so that her in-laws could force their new daughter-in-law into prostitution. The girl had her nails pulled out, among other things, before she was finally rescued.

Afghan child bride Sahar Gul, 15; mutilated for refusing prostitution and rescued from a toilet-prison.

And lastly, there is the story about Junior Seau, a man who is close to my heart because at one time, my deceased husband helped finance his football scholarship at USC... Seau is remembered as kind, generous and warm-hearted to a fault. What happened to him?

Cruelty exists and is tolerated, even encouraged by governments.

For the last seven months, at the end of each day, and first thing in the morning, I pray to be kind today. It is the hardest thing I have ever done, and the best.

May we all be kind to one another today.

Thoughts On Taxes, Health Care and the Politics of Dependence

First, the Presidential Election.
How in the world can there be a virtual tie in this race?
The country is in the can. No one is hiring. People are becoming wards of the state, claiming unemployment insurance, disability, food stamps, section 8 housing - in droves. Our national debt exceeds our current GDP! How can that happen? Welfare spending is up 41% under Obama!
Where is America? Who are we? Are we dependents for life? Are we a people who give up hope and turn in our independence for a shekel? When did that happen?
How do we get past this and create jobs? Do we continue to expand the government? Is the government the only acceptable employer anymore? I think that is BS!

The president gave a speech yesterday in which he said congress should only extend the Bush-era tax cuts to those who earned under $250,000. Excuse me, but aren't those so-called "wealthy" the people who will hire Americans and put them back to work? We need to lower taxes, provide incentives for hiring and free up businesses from all this tax and regulation so we can get people back to work!
Lose the taxes, baby!
Give incentives!
Freedom from all these burdens would ease businesses back into business!
What is wrong with this picture? If I could afford more gas, I would drive more, but taxes are too high.
And if employers are penalized for hiring - ie, have to pay taxes and fees; if they are penalized for being successful in business and therefore earning more, and forced to pay higher taxes; if employees cost more to hire, ie. healthcare and payroll taxes, regulations and entitlements, liability and other compliance issues - why would anyone who is in business to make money hire?
And let me add this:
There is no reason to hire someone who is over 45. Why should they? That person will cost between two and three times more in health care benefits. Their experience is usually not that valuable when compared to the benefit of hiring a young whipper-snapper with social media skills and techno-savvy, au-courent with trending culture - who can do the job, albeit from another perspective that is perhaps, more aligned with the modern young consumer.

Health Care:
How many times have I heard someone tell me they are going for their colonoscopy at the end of the year because they have met their deductible and it is "paid for"?
The price of healthcare goes up when people don't look at the bill and have to pay it themselves out of their own pockets. With medical insurance, a third party pays for it. If it came out of your own pocket, you would be looking for a better deal. You would be searching for quality, cost, service. 
Now - we are all screwed. There is no incentive to provide any of those things. 
What is more, doctors who will have to contract with the self-limiting insurance companies, and deal with non-physician bean-counters who will determine treatment based on cost - will be leaving the business in droves, reported the Doctor Patient Medical Association.

"Nine out of 10 doctors say medicine is on the worng track, most think about quitting and find it hard to practice ethical medicine. They say government's to blame for the mess, but are quick to add neither Congress nor the President - can be trusted to fix things."

These physicians are thinking of quitting. ONLY 5% are happy about Obamacare. 

"The survey includes 699 doctors, 23% Primary Care Providers, 10% General Surgery, 11% Hospital-based specialists and 56% Office-based specialists in active practice across 45 states."

This is real.

What throws me through a loop is this: when did "health care" become synonymous with "health insurance?"

Health insurance is a product that was designed to pool resources against the possibility of a health care crisis. 

It is not meant to be a pool of money out of which consumers and physicians select the benefits they will take advantage of.

In the former case, health care is determined by the doctor in accordance with the needs of the patient.

In the latter, health care is determined by the services that are covered under a specific health care policy. If what you need is not covered, too bad. You don't get it. 

On the other hand, even if you don't need it, what the hell, its covered! So a smart physician or physician's medical group, will own the facility that you will be sent to for lab work, MRI, CT scan, physical therapy, prosthetics, after care, etc. That way, its kept all in the family. So what if you really don't need that physical therapy? It's covered by your insurance! So what if you need another 6 months of physical therapy after your surgery? You are only covered for ten sessions. Too bad.

And what about your 90-year old mother?

She is a poor return on the investment. Give her pain meds to shut her up and be done with it. Forget the fact that she is mentally alert, capable, fun, a part of your life, your children's life, a brilliant artist and scholar who contributed so much to society -

She is still a bad return on the investment. Her insurance, Medicare, doesn't cover that procedure. Too bad.

But she can have all the pain meds she wants!

One provision of the new PPACA is reporting and measuring. Anyone who has been involved with the health care system in a critical way, when someone had a catastrophic illness, knows that this "measuring" is arbitrary, inhumane and horrendous.

These metrics are standards that set precedents for levels of care. For example, is the patient ambulatory? continent? able to administer their own medications? cognizant of the date and time?

These metrics determine a patient's coverage; as they are met, treatment is revised. From the outside looking in, it may sound like a good idea. But when you are in it, with a patient in critical need of care, it is highly insufficient. 

When the patient is deemed to have met certain standards according to the authority, usually not a physician, they can get kicked out of a facility and returned to the home to be cared for by family members. These are usually people in the home who must work and maintain a household without help for their loved one. They change diapers, help the patient to the bathroom, feed and care for a loved one who is in need of in-patient care that is not covered by their policy. 

In one example, what if a person is suffering from a brain injury, something that is more and more common as the veterans return. Their behavior may be unpredictable; they may have holes in their cognition that are hard to recognize until faced with a specific situation; continued therapy may afford these patients greater resolution of their problems, but it is not available to them.

That the patient would indeed, benefit from continued treatment on a staid course - has no bearing on the decision by the insurance company. 

In our current system, this is indeed the case. It is a problem that will only become worse. 

May I also say this: 

An article today in the Wall Street Journal, The Crushing Cost of Health Care reports once again, that the bulk of medical costs go to a very small percentage of ill patients.

A goodly percentage of health care costs are wracked up by lifestyle choices - including overeating, drug and alcohol use, risky sports and jobs, sitting on the couch watching tv and eating chips and dip while you smoke and drink beer -

Should someone who is conscientious about the maintenance of their health have to go into a pool with people who risk their health on lifestyle choices? Shouldn't we be allowed or afforded the opportunity to opt out and pay for our own health care out of pocket if we want to? Could people be afforded the opportunity to join a collective for catastrophic care only - such as broken bones and ER visits, and catastrophic illnesses? 

Living a healthy lifestyle, exercising and eating well, refraining from habits that are known to cause illness - should allow a person to opt out. This bill provides no incentive for taking responsibility for oneself. It favors the person who opts to take a pill to diet, to control cholesterol, to fight depression, to control heart disease - and taxes the person who uses health providers sparingly because that person prefers to take responsibility for their well-being. It also removes the freedom of the health care savings plans that afford the opportunity for people to spend their dollars where they think the money is best spent, on alternative medicine, such as acupuncture or massage, on therapy or a gym. Instead, it encourages the "take a pill" mentality. Take a pain pill, take an anti-depressant, take a diet pill - 

We saw this coming when we fought off Hillarycare in the Clinton administration. There is a historic link between Big Pharma and the Democratic party that continues in the Obama administration. See this article in the HuffPost. And look at how drug costs have skyrocketed!

I don't know if any political party is interested in the actual welfare of the public. No one seems to care about getting America back to work. No one seems to care about this ridiculous approach to "health care" that is really a big pay off to the insurance companies and a huge tax increase on the American public that will force every American to be dependent upon a third party payer for their most basic health needs, no matter what. 

For me, give me Liberty or Give Me Death!

"If I wanted America to FAIL I would prey on the goodness and decency of ordinary Americans. . .  If I wanted America to fail, I suppose I wouldn't change a thing."

L'Affaire Risky

Just look at this beautiful woman!

So. You are a Secret Service detail for the President of the United States, arguably the most important and influential and powerful man on earth. And you want a little nookie. There you are in Cartagena, Colombia and the pre-work is done; all you have left is time on your hands and you can't really leave the area to sightsee or shop. You're holed up in a hotel with American military personell and those guys have discovered that prostitution is legal in Colombia. What is a boy gonna do??

So, maybe it was a security breach... According to Isikoff's article (linked above):

"U.S. officials have described the agents' conduct as a potential security breach especially because all the agents involved had access to the president's day-by-day, minute-by-minute schedule. But one official familiar with the security arrangements said that there were no specific security threats during the president's trip. Although agents upon arrival were briefed about current activities by leftist FARC guerrillas and local drug cartels, they were told neither had made any specific threats to the president."

Bad Boys!

There they were, hanging at the Pley Club, waiting for the boss to show and watching the military guys going at it, hey - 

Must have been fun! What pisses me off - is the stoopido move of being too cheap to pay the girl what she asked for! Two guys is a lot of work! They actually took advantage of her services and tried to split it like a friggin meal at a restaurant! You know she had to work twice as hard! What were they thinking?







SHAME on the Secret Service! Don't they have any manners? These guys had no integrity. They got what they deserved!

He's Sexy and HE KNOWS IT! I love a POTUS with a sense of humor - BUT - I don't think he made this video.
Have fun! Check it out!

Angels - a Doggie Photo Album

My Golden Retrievers

My dogs are really Angels.
Recently, a friend called me in grief. Her Labrador, Jake, is ill with terminal cancer. He is nearing the end. It struck such a cord with me.

Why, I wonder, do people have to outlive their dogs?
Amidst the sadness, however, it is the joy they bring to our lives that we must celebrate to honor their spirits. There is nothing like a dog.

Marcus and Eliza, 1983

MARCUS
Marcus was my first Golden Retriever. This is Marcus with my daughter Eliza when she was a wee one, probably around a year old. He was remarkable. A gentleman, Marcus would have been Topper if he were a man; a top hat, a cane, spats, bow tie, tails - a martini and a cigar to complete the picture. That was Marcus. He was with us from 1981 to 1993. . .  we got him in Lake Tahoe, during the winter. Our neighbors had a Samoyed; Snowball. Snowball taught him the ropes - how to dig a hole into the snow for warmth, how to pee outside . . . As the snow melted, he was frantic, looking for a patch to pee. He finally figured it out, but it was cute.

My stepson, Darin, Bill and Baby Marcus, ca. 1981

We moved from Lake Tahoe to Hawaii and he did four months in the Joint (quarantine). He owned Kailua Beach. We ran every morning and he knew everyone. He was beautiful.
We returned to the mainland, Malibu, and shortly after that my husband left me for a two-year separation. It was a horrible time. I had been married only five years, with a small child. I felt like a failure. I was too young and too dysfunctional to know a better way to handle my situation. I almost fell apart - but I couldn't. I had to take care of Eliza . . .

So - I ran every day with Marcus, on the trails or on the beach. He guided me to sanity. Eventually my husband and I actually patched it up and stayed married. But it was Marcus who was my rock.

One day, he couldn't walk. His front legs were paralyzed. He had a tumor on his spine that had been undetected. There was nothing they could do.

When he passed away, I felt like the world had ended.

I searched very hard for my next pups. I knew what I wanted. I read and talked to breeders and show-dog owners. I studied everything I could get my hands on. I never wanted to be without a dog again, specifically, a Golden Retriever. So I got two, and we had puppies; it was joy, pure joy.

CHICO

Chico the Man

Chico and the ball

Chico and his baby girl, Ginger

Chico was a gentle giant. He weighed 115 pounds and moved like a tank. He never, ever growled in his life except in play with JoJo and his puppies. He was the most gentle dog that ever lived. His head was as big as a house, with kind eyes and a polka dot black nose. He smiled all the time. His soft golden fur was my halo. His gentle head would tap me on the back of my calf as I worked about the house or at my desk to let me know he was watching over me. He loved stinky stuff and cat poop, dog parks and ladies. My panties were never safe. He was horrible when JoJo was in heat, directed by an other-worldly instinct that brought out the beast in him. Chico would go crazy. He would prowl around looking for a way to get to her. He would run back and forth across the yard, try to take the door down, crawl through a window, smash his way in - anything. He would jump in the pool to cool off and go traipsing about all wet, dripping around the doors and howling.
He was all man, but a gentle man. He was the man I wished I had in my life. If he had been human I imagine he would be the guy who would have loved football and golf, beer and women. He was my man.

JoJo was so beautiful; she was a Saint.

JoJo jumping in after a ball

The way I will always remember JoJo and Chico

JOJO
JoJo was born on my birthday. She was simply a saint. "Saint" JoJo resurrected my husband when he came home after months and months in the hospital with a brain aneurysm. He had been in a coma for a long time, and partially paralyzed on one side. He was in rehab for months to relearn everything, from feeding himself to speech. He lost all of his hand and eye coordination. JoJo forced him to throw a ball until it hurt, made him walk her, attached herself to his thigh and never left his side. She adopted him as his nurse. She made him her purpose. She knew and understood that he was disabled, and when she went through dog training class with him, she made him look good. She was a star; she passed all her show trials with flying colors, except one -

Bill and I watched as the handler took her through her paces. But when she was recalled from a sit-stay, she ran out of the ring to Bill. Same on the down-stay. That night, Bill had a relapse; his eyes stopped tracking. Abnormal activity in his brain showed another aneurysm was active. He was admitted to UCLA again. She knew. She wanted him to know.

JoJo at attention over a ball

She had five litters, each one perfect. She was an awesome mother. In between births she jumped into the pool. She would throw her own ball in - just so she could retrieve it if she couldn't get someone to do it for her.

She was the most beautiful dog in the world to me.

Puppy pile!

Puppy stand-off

JoJo weaning and her puppies

JoJo with her litter

Puppies

I have often been asked if it was difficult to give up puppies to their new families. Never. I can't think of a more joyful thing.

I know that these dogs ring the same joy to their new home that they have brought me. I have never been disappointed. Everyone who ever had a puppy has been delighted. Their lives have been immeasurably enriched, changed for the better. Each puppy has its own doggy-destiny, to be that dog, in that family, and to give that family love. It is the cycle of life and love repeating itself. I had it, and I was passing it on to a new family, who would gain and give love anew.

I learned by my second shot at it that puppies can begin to learn in the fourth week; by then, I began with the basics.

By the time they went to their new homes, they were socialized and prepared for the fundamentals. I mean, by eight weeks old,  in my puppy classes, we were doing "sit," "down" and some "stay" and "come." Using the parents (Jojo and Chico)  as a resource, the pups would do what mom and dad did. In several cases, for various reasons, some puppies stayed with us longer than the eight weeks; one for four months, one for six, and so on. By the time they went to their new families, they were pretty well trained.

Latte and JoJo

I was in heaven. I loved every minute of puppy-breath.
I became dog-lady. All the kids in the 'hood hung out at my house.
My puppies had a ball.

Chico, Latte and JoJo

LATTE

I finally kept one little girl from the last litter JoJo and Chico had. Latte is the pup on the left, looking boldly, right at the camera. She has such a face! She is the perfect combination of mom and dad, but all her own. She is calm and intelligent, sweet and demonstrative. She loves everyone, leans against people she meets on the street, pushes her way into the hearts of strangers who are in distress. She is a healer; she is intuitive.

Like Chico, she has a blocky head, a short stop (nose) and wide-set eyes. Like her mom, she is full-coated with a vanilla undercoat. She is bulky and gentle, sweet and smart. She has the most amazing way of communicating...

JoJo purred. She taught all of her puppies to purr. When they are happy, they emit a little friendly growl. But in recent years, Latte has taken it a step or two further.

When she is really happy, really content, safe and secure - she talks. I swear. She makes noises in her throat that I am sure sound the same to her as human speech. She intones and converses. I speak, she answers. She even asks questions and makes statements. She always talks when we get in bed. She starts the minute I get under the covers. She is always there first, right where I am going to get in. I have to lift her up to get under her and then, her head rests on my shoulder. She grunts like a bagpipe when I lift her up and then she starts the talking. I imagine she asking me how the day went, telling me she loves me and I know, without a doubt, she is reiterating that bedtime is the best time of the day, when Latte, Chai and I are all together and everything is good.

After Latte was born, my husband and I moved around a bit until he moved to Hawaii. It was Latte, Chico and JoJo and our Australian Shepherd Pesky. I had four dogs and one cat, Whitey. We rented a tiny house in Thousand Oaks. It was a difficult time, but the house was full of love.

JoJo, Chico, Latte and Pesky in the background -
 he always took the back seat.

Latte at 7 months

My dogs motivated me each day, made me walk them, made me take them to the dog park every day. I made friends. I got along and found a path. They guided me. 

In 2004, my daughter graduated from USC. She left right after graduation. I had never felt so alone. Separated from my husband, my daughter gone, thank GOD I had the dogs. 

Latte

On the day after she left, I took Chico with me to do errands. We went to the dog park and he sniffed and peed. We had lunch with a friend. Then I came home and he jumped out of the car. A few minutes later I was feeding the dogs - and he wouldn't eat. 

I knew right away that he was really sick. I lifted him into the car and ran to the emergency vet. 

He died that night. He had a myocardial tumor on his heart that bled out. I was devastated. 

It was so sad. I am still sad about it. 

I fell totally in love

CHAI
A few months later, Eliza handed me a present. It was all wrapped in blue tissue in a blue bag. I opened it up and there was a photo album in it. It was a baby album. I freaked out. It appeared she was trying to tell me something . . .

But it wasn't a baby human; it was Chai, my baby boy. Chai, my baby boy. . . 

Visiting Chai at his breeder

I visited him several times at his breeder, Bob Rados in San Pedro. He was the most adorable little fella ever! I took him two days shy of his eight week. He came to my house a little cutie-boy with a little case of Coxidia when he came home, a common parasite puppies pick up. It made it very hard to crate train him. He couldn't hold it until morning.
So, we took a page from some of the puppy-owners I had. We put him on the bed with me. That way, he would wake me up every time he needed to go. And he did.

What a little cutie. 

To this day, Chai sleeps on my pillow. As a little guy he slept as close to me as he could. He still does, but he weighs 95 lbs. Chai follows my every move. He is a woosy little Momma's boy, and I love him for it. He makes himself as tiny as he can to get as close to me as he can wherever I am. He has a long nose and a long, slender body, the opposite of Latte. He has golden fur and it is straight as can be. He has a huge ruff - a mane - around his handsome face. One day we were walking down the street and a little boy in a stroller pointed at him. "Look mommy! A lion!" That is my boy. Chai is afraid of chihuahuas and small dogs that bark. He loves everyone and every dog, even though they don't love him. But he tries anyhow, and usually, he wins everyone over.

Chai and Latte in my house in Thousand Oaks

Chai sleeps on my pillow at night

When Chai was little, I had a small park across the street from my house. I would take him late at night to play on the climbing structure. He loved to climb and slide down the slide. It was so cute.
I never imagined he would develop a life-long tree-climbing habit, which he has. He climbs trees. They just have to have low-hanging branches and be strong enough to hold him.

Eventually, we all moved over to Hawaii to join my husband and daughter. Every day we went swimming. I shaved the dogs so we didn't have a hassle with the sand and the heat and the long hair. It was so much fun. JoJo was reunited with my husband. She became his mistress once again, and the two of them grew old together. 

Latte, JoJo and Chai in Hawaii

Although Bill was not really "old," his illness made him weak and vulnerable. He suffered from a lot of illnesses. His life was difficult, but he had a remarkable attitude. He never felt sorry for himself. 

Latte and Chai on my bed

(L-R) MyKey (Front), Latte, Chai and Golda at Peets in Brentwood

But our marriage didn't survive and I moved back to the Mainland with Latte and Chai. It kills me that I didn't bring JoJo with me, but she seemed to want to be with Bill. He certainly felt she should stay with him.

I was in no position to argue, being absolutely broke, so I took my two with me and here we are.

JoJo passed away two years ago in April. She was 13. I think she knew that Bill was terminally ill. He died last January. She had done her job well.

TODAY
I live in Brentwood, a suburb of Los Angeles, California. We share a condo with my 90-year-old mom. Latte is no longer a pup. She is slowing down. But she is a happy old girl, and she lives a good doggie life with me. I walk my dogs four times a day, at least, and over the last five years I have come to know my neighborhood very well. We run into our neighbors every time we walk.

In the morning I wake up with some really happy dogs, anxious to get a bite to eat and go for a walk. And its not just any walk - its a walk to Peets, the coffee place on the corner.

Peets means other dogs, like MyKey and Golda (above), or Henry and Mollie. It means treats and pets from all the neighborhood dog lovers and kids. Its incredibly important to my dogs! On days when I have to run early I know they feel ripped off. But what can I do? They are, after all, dogs.

Through this constan motion, this walking every day, I have learned so much. Small dogs cause problems, most of the time, especially when they are on retractable leashes. Some people hate dogs. Everyone has entitlement issues and most people who hate dogs will try to make other people accomodate them through angry intimidation. Nut-cases exist everywhere.

One night, at 1AM, I was walking my dogs off leash and Chai started sniffing in the flowerbed in front of an apartment building. A woman was standing in the entry of the building eating something. She began to freak out, literally, screaming at me at the top of her lungs. "Get the F-g dog out of here! He's killing the flowers! I'm calling the police! Put him on a leash!" Lights came on throughout the building. I didn't say anything, I just gathered my pups and ran. I don't think she was sober. . .

But there are nice people too. And there are great dog owners. I have come to love my neighbors so much. I often know the dogs before the people. One of the most important lessons I have learned is that kindness matters. Tolerance, patience and love win. My dogs give so much love - and it never fails that they get so much in return. Why can't humans be the same?

Latte and Chai posing at the Laurel Canyon Dog Park.

Newt's a Bad, Bad Boy; So What?

He's certainly not pretty, but he
could change history - again.

In the age of spin, heralded by Bill Clinton and James Carville, Newt Gingrich defies the Mainstream Media.

James Carville - "Its the economy, Stupid!"

I am not thrilled with any of the candidates running for president. But at the South Carolina debate on Friday Newt shamed the moderator for asking "the Question." In fact, who really cares what he did with his ex-wife? Do we? Really?

President Bill Clinton

For me, its all about jobs. How do we get the economy rolling again? How do we overcome the uncertainty that has business clutching their balls and waiting for the next shoe to drop? And what about the people who have let go of all their help, cancelled their dental appointments, put off that elective surgery, switched to public schools and put off buying a new car or a fridge until things get better?

Its real. VERY real.
And Newt is real.

I don't like Newt very much. I think he is a despicable mess. But I admire his brevity of experience, the weight of his intelligence, his historical knowledge, his ability to pull himself out of obscurity and his tenacity for getting the impossible accomplished. Who would have thought, three months ago, that his campaign could have legs? It does, like a centipede.

President Barack Obama

Newt can win this thing and throw that scarecrow out of the WH. POTUS has about as much experience dealing with the raw real of Newt as he does holding down a job or paying an employee. Or balancing a budget, for that matter.

Explain how he is going to make a case for Keystone being rejected? How is he going to defend Solyndra? How are we going to look this country in the eye and re-elect that monster?

I couldn't care less about angry black women or Baine Capital. I want to be able to pay my bills without fear. I can't right now. And as far ahead as I can see there is no momentum for change in the work force, in business and in the economy.

The problem with Mitt is that he is just as far removed from the average guy as Obama. When Newt starts to bring up his record, instead of an appropriate and normal response on his face, the man SMIRKS! Its so  odd!

This is Romney's expression when Newt is taking
him down on health care! INNAPROPRIATE!

As for Newt, he acts like the rest of us. He has been that outcast, that misunderstood guy. He has imperfect written all over him. We already KNOW he is bad. He knows it, we know it, so who cares? We also know that he has a plan! A real plan, one that is based on decades of Washington experience, where he can say that the "single-payer" was wrong, "I made a mistake." I like that. He really has learned on the job, and these other guys - well, they're lightweight.

Can Obama debate Newt? He definitely needs his TelePrompTer.


Let's see what will happen in the upcoming primaries. It could be interesting.

UPDATE:
Newt is a horrible mess. His own ego squished him like a fly. Sometimes you're the bug, sometimes you're the windshield...