Flogging T-Paw and, maybe, ourselves

P.M. Carpenter: "It seems to me that there isn't much mystery behind Tim Palwenty's remarkable poltroonery last night. He has quietly conceded the race, and is already looking forward to Mitt Romney's call about the Number Two slot. Meanwhile he'll be a good, obedient little puppy dog on the campaign trail. Damn, that was fast. But maybe I'm wrong and Pawlenty will soon stop licking them and grow some new and bigger ones instead." Carpenter is probably right about T-Paw's future. But, man, his critique is just brutal. But in a larger sense, is T-Paw the only victim of this flogging? Is there collateral damage involved, too?

Right now, somewhere in world, some bright high school senior or Marine lieutenant in the Hindu Kush is fantasizing about becoming president someday. Indeed, such a dream, whenever it occurs, is the first necessary step to the White House. Just ask any president. But given the sheer hell we force our candidates through, we're telegraphing a powerful but negative message to the best and brightest: "Don't do it, kid. If happiness is a life goal, pursuing national office isn't worth it. That way lies madness." In fact, whatever your political tribe, anyone following American politics today is undoubtedly disgusted by what they see and hear much of the time. The moments of inspiration, pride and satisfaction are few. Remember Grant Park on Election Night in 2008? Even rock-ribbed Republicans were moved. But it seems like a thousand years ago.

So sure, it's fun to rip the hearts out of candidates on the campaign trail (or sitting presidents in the Oval Office). Yes, some deserve it (I'm thinking of you, Palin). But have we gone too far? Are we killing off a future Lincoln or Obama in the crib with our political bloodlust? The question is unanswerable. But one wonders.