Carly Fiorina’s life has been a succession of humiliating failures, each one pushing her to more delusional heights. Her presidential campaign is the capstone to a life spent “failing upward.”
While the Democratic National Committee has labored to keep a tight lid on their presidential nomination, the GOP is content to treat theirs like a three-ring circus. This year’s cycle has been dominated by three candidates with little to no prior political experience, who think that they can cut to the head of the line: Donald Trump, Ben Carson, and Carly Fiorina. And while Trump has shown himself to have staying power, both Carson and Fiorina have whined and begged to stay in the limelight long after their fifteen minutes were up.
Carly Fiorina’s moment of zen came last September, when cuckservatives collectively dived behind her skirt to hide from the big, bad Donald. Unfortunately, a cuck’s loyalty only lasts as long as his refractory period, and Fiorina was quickly replaced by Carson as the anti-Trump flavor of the month. By now the wannabe Maggie Thatcher who told Trump off on national television has fallen so far in the polls that she doesn’t even qualify to face him in upcoming debates.
Even by the debased standards of presidential candidates, I have difficulty understanding why Fiorina is even running. Her sole claim to fame is her experience as a tech CEO, the crowning achievement of which was running HP, one of the most venerable brands in American computing, into the ground. Her “business experience” is on par with that of 2012 nominee Mitt Romney, who similarly thought he could impress voters by touting his tenure at the head of a corporate chop shop.
Fiorina does have one qualification over Trump and Carson: trace amounts of prior political experience. In 2010, she ran for the US Senate against incumbent California Democrat Barbara Boxer. In a year in which Republicans won control of the House and took six Senate seats from the Democrats, Fiorina lost to Boxer in a landslide. You can’t even blame California’s Leftist lean for her loss, considering that in the same election, the GOP defeated Senator Russ Feingold from Wisconsin (traditionally blue) and even took Barack Obama’s old seat in Illinois.
And it’s a good thing most Americans will never see her in person, because doing so gave me the creeps. I attended a Fiorina town hall at the University of Iowa in Iowa City on Tuesday and came away feeling oddly violated. Fiorina’s candidacy is Cuckservatism 101 with a dollop of Hillary-style identity politics and a side salad of sexual frustration. I’d say that conservatives should resist Fiorina’s attempts to use the GOP for her personal ego trip, but that would require them to pay attention to her to begin with.
I arrived at the town hall ten minutes early and managed to grab a seat near the front. The venue was tiny—it took place inside the reception room of an athletic club—and the crowd topped out around a hundred max. Similar to Marco Rubio’s town hall, the audience was largely pensioners and College Republicans: I was seated next to a cute brunette who was bragging about how she’d met Rubio and “adored” him. I also chatted with an old lady who tried to dissuade me from my views on Donald Trump, describing his rallies as “circus acts.”
Carly Fiorina entered stage center at eleven in the morning, shaking hands and mugging for selfies. As she made her way to the front, she startled me by patting me on the shoulder, informing the old lady and me that “We’re about to start.” Whenever old women start touching me, it’s usually a harbinger of disaster, but even still, I was unprepared for the Freudian ten-car pileup around the bend.
Fiorina’s speech was standard cuck boilerplate, distinguished by her effusive references to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu as her “friend” and her willingness to attack Donald Trump, the only GOP candidate I’ve seen so far who’s done so. But the town hall was dominated by her creepy, predatory, blatant sexual desperation:
At her best, Fiorina looks like a relapsed alcoholic hiding her boozing from her husband. At her worst, she oozes repressed horniness like a cat lost in Chinatown oozes sweat. Her eyes have a permanent lecherous gaze, her body language is wound tighter than a drum, and her exaggeratedly feminine mannerisms make her come off like a drag queen. Now I can’t look at her without imagining a ball gag in her mouth.
When Donald Trump said that Carly Fiorina’s “face” disqualifies her from the presidency, this is what he was talking about. While she’s not as bad off as other famous female executives, Fiorina is yet another cautionary tale of what happens when girls eschew faith and family in favor of chasing pointless corporate baubles. Had she gone into teaching instead of the corporate world, she’d likely be one of those sexual predators who get hauled off to jail screaming about how she “loved” the 15-year-old she was fellating after school.
Fortunately for us young men, Fiorina’s campaign is deader than the aborted babies she staked her poll numbers on. We can reassure ourselves that we won’t have to live through four years of our president staring at us like she’s a gazelle waiting for the lions to pounce. And hopefully, the twin train wrecks of Fiorina and Ben Carson will dissuade vanity presidential campaigns in the future.