On the way to her Salon of Whispery Beltway Secrets, Madame Noonan teetered through the halls of her co-op, conducting an impromptu tour of the place.
"The Death Mask of St. Ronald Reagan," she intoned breathlessly, nodding at a pile of old towels on a milk-crate end table.
"The original Black Grimoire of Newton Leroy Gingrich," she said reverently, indicating a Washington D.C. metropolitan phone-book from 1977.
"The Secret Sex Dungeon of Rutherford B. Hayes," she shuddered, pointing to a wicker basket full of old pantyhose.
Finally she arrived at a small card table on which sat a box of Fig Newtons, a souvenir coffee mug from the set of "This Week with George Whatshisname" full of dried out pens and blush brushes, and a glass of wine the size of a birdbath. She pounded the wine like a pro --
-- and then stared blearily into the lees and made strange, dramatic movements with with her hands which were either meant to conjure voices from the Other Side or keep her from tipping over.
"Many things, I see," she said melodramatically. "Many things."
From the Wall Street Journal:
Let’s begin with a prophecy: It is not only the Republican Party that is breaking and perhaps re-forming. The Democratic Party is also starting to come apart. We’re seeing the first signs of it now. ... Here’s what I suspect is coming whatever happens this year. Just as a portion of Republicans—nobody knows how big—will break from the GOP over Donald Trump, some percentage of Democrats, especially among the affluent will, in the next cycle, start to peel off from their party over its lurch leftward. They will not be at home in a party of smiley-face socialism that threatens to become actual socialism. They will not want the American economy destroyed. They will not be comfortable in a party that supports the most extreme political correctness; they do not want their 10-year-old daughters using transgendered bathrooms with men. They will find themselves increasingly opposed to the political correctness that has swept the universities. They will have increasing qualms about spending $60,000 a year to have their bright, kind children turned into leftist robots.
...So they will start to split off from the Democrats, and they will find the Republicans who split off in 2016, and together, in 2020 or so, they will attempt to create their own party. It will be pro-growth, moderate on social issues, more or less neoconservative in its foreign policy. It will be smallish but well-heeled. It will try to hold together and grow.
That is my prophecy...
"And thus shall the Royal Road of Both Siderism lead inevitably to the Imaginary Third Party of my dreams!" Madame Noonan slumped back into her chair, exhausted by the power of her mighty vision.
Her hand trembled as she poured herself another catchment basin of wine.
"And when exactly is all of this supposed to happen?" I asked.
"Meh," she shrugged. "Let's say five or ten years after everyone forgets I wrote it. That usually works."
She dropped her voice and looked suspiciously around the room.
"By the way, have I shown you Rutheford B. Hayes' sex dungeon yet?" she asked. "He died in there you know. Died."