If it weren't so rude to say I told you so . . .

If it weren't so rude to say I told you so . . . I'd say I told you so.

Haley's not running for President in 2012 (oh, I am shocked, I tell you, shocked).

Now the guessing game is what he needed the extra large helping of name recognition for (and yes, I know I'm ending a sentence in a preposition - but it's not the first ime and won't be the last).

I could never believe that he actually thought he could win, and as the bad news piled on time after time (usually from unfortunate statements he made, but occasionaly from unfortunate statements his staff made), I kept waiting for the shoe to drop.

It took so long, I began to wonder if I was wrong, but then a letter from his son to Bill Kristol was made public in which his son said that he had begged his dad not to run.  Soon after, Barbour's wife, Marsha, noted that the possibility of a run "horrifies me."  That's when I relaxed and settled back into a state of complacent know-it-all, twiddling my thumbs as I waited for the inevitable. 

One question, though.  Since Barbour is out of it, will the media and the blogging world get off Mississippi's back? What state will everyone else make fun of now? And who even knows where Trump was born (or was he was hatched out of a bad-hair egg)?  Questions, questions.