Turn out the lights, the party’s over

I held out as long as I could, I really did. The entertainment factor was off the charts, a reality so upside down as to nullify all attempts at parody. Newt Gingrich’s presidential campaign was a traveling circus worthy of the combined efforts of PT Barnum and Grand Moff Tarkin, but no circus can last forever, and it is sadly time for this one to fold up the tent for the last time.

Newt, bud, you need to get out. You were my favorite character, but unless you leave, the show is gonna air its finale much sooner rather than later. You want Mittens to win Republican Idol? Cuz that’s what’s gonna happen if you keep siphoning off 10%+ of the vote from grown-up gay(er) Tim Tebow!

Look, we all need to make sacrifices sometimes. You don’t get to be president, I don’t get to be right about everything. That’s just how shit goes. You are already a large man – now you need to be a big man. Get out of this race.

You won’t want for things to do, I promise. There are countless southern colleges, black holes along the Bible Belt for you to visit, where you can advocate for small children’s working rights and cry about how you coulda been a contender if only the rest of the country had the cranial capacity to fully understand your Churchillian genius.

Remember: your crown and glories they may depose, but not your griefs; still you are king of those.

(Newt loves applying laughably inappropriate high-minded references to himself, so maybe that will convince him.)