One week ago, yours truly was a colonoscopy virgin. I was young, virtuous, and innocent.
And now, I can never wear white again.
I learned a lot. For example, I had no idea that the same guy who does a colonoscopy also does a gastroscopy, which means a tube down your throat, too.
Stuck in both ends: Suddenly, I felt great empathy for an ear of corn — and I’ll never look at corn holders the same way.
(I also made sure the doc was going to use different tubes. Because, eww.)
Obviously, a colonoscopy is a deeply humbling procedure. You’re vulnerable. Everything about it is utterly humiliating, including your trip to the local pharmacy for your “liquid bowel prep.”
By the way, aren’t pharmacists with super-loud voices awesome? Thanks, babe. Thanks for sharing with the room while ringing me up.
Then she asked me if I wanted a plastic bag. I said, “No thanks, I’m gonna wait ‘til I go home to take it.” (Long story short, I’m not allowed in that pharmacy anymore.)
So, yeah — not a fun week. But y’know what?
I don’t regret being an ear of corn.
Because what’s far worse than a colonoscopy is dying from something preventable.
Most roadmaps aren’t linear. There are twists and turns. Construction and offramps. Stormy days and unexpected detours.
And sometimes, you’ve got to take a step backward before you can go forward.
In pro sports, there are two theories on momentum. The first is that momentum is a precious commodity — and the team that has it will continue to have it unless it’s forcefully taken away. Ex-Dallas Cowboys and Miami Dolphins Hall of Fame head coach Jimmy Johnson was a true believer and would call plays specifically to swing momentum.
The second theory says the opposite: The past is the past; don’t be superstitious. In the words of Baltimore Orioles Hall of Fame manager Earl Weaver, “Momentum is only as good as tomorrow’s starting pitcher.”
In politics, both theories are true.
Momentum will hurt Republicans in the 2026 midterms. After riding high in 2024, the Dems regained momentum in most of the high-profile off-year elections, including the governorships in Virginia and New Jersey. Since then, the Dems have (generally) outperformed Republicans.
Energy and momentum are all on their side. In today’s culture, outrage is the opiate of the masses — and the Democratic base has been slurping it by the barrelful. They’re energized and mobilized.
This matters in 2026, because public sentiment is like the ocean’s tides: Sometimes it’s high, sometimes it’s low.
Right now, for the GOP, it’s low. The Democrats own the inside track.
If the current trajectory holds, the Republicans will almost certainly lose the House — and the Senate isn’t any better than a coin flip. (Go check out the odds for yourself. It ain’t looking good.)
Newtonian physics also applies to politics: “An object in motion tends to stay in motion.” That means momentum is a force of its own. And it’ll continue to be a force — unless and until there’s a paradigm shift.
So, it seems, Jimmy Johnson’s theory is correct…
…right until it isn’t.
Because that’s the political paradox. It’s where Johnson’s theory ends and Weaver’s takes over: Winning big in November is itself a paradigm shift.
And paradigm shifts will swing momentum in unpredictable ways. They always do.
Suddenly, it’s a brand-new ball game.
If the Democrats win the midterms, there’ll be new faces on TV, new men and women in leadership roles, and new “brand ambassadors” for the Democratic Party.
Including, very possibly, Abdul El-Sayed.
After all, when the messengers change, so does the message. Can’t change one without the other. In tone, timing, and substance, it’s going to be different.
Which basically means, the Dems are gonna have new starting pitchers.
I hate losing. And I really, REALLY hate losing when the players are playing their hearts out — but bad management and/or bad coaching costs them the win. Getting obliterated because the other team was simply better is one thing; losing a winnable game is maddening.
Despite all the chaos of the Iran War, gas prices, and historic headwinds, I still believe the 2026 midterms are winnable for the GOP — but only if we’re smarter and more disciplined than the Dems. We need, to paraphrase Bret “The Hitman” Hart, “excellence in execution.”
Unfortunately, I don’t see the GOP’s messaging coalescing. Everything is still too scattered.
And it’s far from excellent.
Now, we’re starting to run out of time. Things need to escalate in a hurry, or else…
… we might win EVERYTHING in 2028.
PRediction: Hate to say it, but the best thing for the GOP’s 2028 chances is losing in 2026.
Republican PR works better against a foil. When it’s us versus perfection, the media has a free hand to hang every imperfection over our heads. The Democrats will promise a “free this” and a “free that” ‘til the cows come home. Meanwhile, the GOP is responsible for explaining the status quo.
When the status quo falls out of favor, that’s a big disadvantage.
But once the Dems own the end product, this dynamic changes. Suddenly, they have skin in the game, too. They’re no longer spectators; they’re part of the circus. (Clowns, usually.)
And instead of comparing Republicans with perfection, voters will compare Republicans with Democrats.
If the Dems win the House, they’ll spend the next two years harassing Donald Trump’s family. There’ll be bogus investigations, impeachment hearings, and pointless fishing expeditions. Pinheads in Congress will swarm to CNN and MS NOW, tossing juicy morsels of red meat tofu to their Democratic Socialist base.
The crazier — and the more extreme — the Democrats act, the better it’ll be for the Republicans in 2028.
It’s like the old joke about two middle-aged dudes in the African savannah: Suddenly, a lion charges forward. The first guy takes off, huffing and puffing away.
“Are you crazy?!” yelled his friend. “A lion can run 50 miles per hour! You can’t outrun a lion!”
“I don’t need to outrun the lion,” the other friend replied, “I just need to outrun you.”
PRojection: This doesn’t mean the 2026 midterms are unwinnable — or that we shouldn’t try to win.
It means we desperately need to shift momentum somehow, and if the end result is that we won’t have left-wing loons in the House to scare the [EXPLETIVE] out of Flyover Country in the run-up to 2028, so be it.
Hey, if we end up winning a low-tide election in 2026, it stands to reason we could also do it in 2028.
Besides, an awful lot of voters are apolitical. Politics isn’t on their day-to-day radar. They follow it like it’s the WNBA: Yeah, they’ve heard of Caitlin Clark (and think Sophie Cunningham is flippin’ adorable), but 99.99% of the time when you ask ‘em about it, they’re echoing what other people are saying instead of watching the games themselves.
Their “opinions” are mostly regurgitations. They’re loosely aware of the major storylines, but that’s about it.
Post-Labor Day is when apolitical voters begin to pay attention — and develop opinions of their own.
And even though the Dems have the momentum, the GOP has the money. WAY more money.
And maybe, momentum can be purchased.
PRaise: The GOP’s challenge is: How can we use our money advantage to swing the momentum in 2026?
Big praise to all the Republican donors, by the way. (If you were one of ‘em, you rock!) In our pay-to-play world, the bottom line is: money makes messages go farther. Used correctly, money can elevate awareness, mobilize voters, and energize your base for Election Day.
And used incorrectly, you can set your whole dang pile of money on fire. (See Kamala Harris, circa 2024.)
Money is an asset, but it’s up to the spender to use it wisely. Results aren’t guaranteed.
My advice for the GOP: Develop a transparent “metrics dashboard” that’s shared with high-ranking campaign officials. Relevant metrics would include polling data, ad buys, social media engagement, candidate fundraising, and anything else that can be tracked and quantified.
Don’t spend your money blindly. Develop a strategy, test the results — and when the metrics jump positively, double down and spend more.
That’s how you swing momentum!
Because, if you waste donors’ money, it won’t just sink us in the midterms. The consequences will have longer legs, I’m afraid.
It’ll also demotivate donors from cutting a check in 2028, too. (See Democratic Party, circa 2026.)
PRedator: “See what became of him today, the predator became the prey.”
Thought experiment: If the “worst thing” happens — and the GOP shocks the world by winning the midterms — what should our next strategic PR move be?
In other words, what happens if we get to go on offense instead of defense?
Yes, we’d lose the Dems as our House-controlling, overreaching, impeachment-obsessed foils, but we’d also inherit a Democratic Party that’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown: After losing to Trump in 2024, if they lose the 2026 midterms too, left-wing heads will explode! Every Dem will be frothing mad!
Which means, the Democrats will be pointing fingers and tearing each other to shreds.
And that’s fine for us. Let the circular firing squad commence: Ready, aim, fire!
If this happens, our next move is obvious: Split the Dems into two parties — a liberal party and a socialist party — and keep ‘em in a permanent minority for the foreseeable future.
Wouldn’t that be great? The Dems divided; the Republicans united. All our problems would be behind us.
(Hey! Just like a colonoscopy!)
