American politics is not a battle between demons and angels for the throne of God. It’s a negotiation among immensely flawed human beings over the proper governance of a country. There are people on different sides with different opinions. Even among those who may be terribly wrong-headed, there are good folks trying to do their best. Such a scenario is, or should be, more like a football game than a war. On any given play, a good outcome is when you move the ball six or seven yards in your direction. When a Paul Ryan or Mitt Romney fails to walk whistling into the end zone, he is not a traitor to the team. And — dropping the metaphor — even when people stray from the purest form of your philosophy, they are often not villains but only allies who disagree.

Ted Cruz — whom I supported — was an unappealing candidate. He looked like Grandpa Munster and talked like Elmer Gantry. But even if he had had all the grace and charm in the world, he might have placed himself so far to the right of the mainstream, he never stood a chance. Someone like Jeb Bush was a horror show to purist conservatives like me… but right this minute, I would kiss Jeb’s butt and call him baby if it would put him in the place of the low-life leftist demagogue we seem to be stuck with.