Friends of mine keep talking about a Trump presidency, what it will feel like the day The Orange One comes to power. (Answer: It will feel just like the botched Miss Universe pageant, a fatal coronation you can’t easily take back.) Others are convinced that Ted Cruz has just the right Canadian-American chutzpah to go all the way to the White House. But I don’t think so, and I’m not worried about either of them.

Why? There is one overwhelming reason a Republican won’t win the presidency this year, and her name is not Hillary.

Doesn’t matter which candidate the Republicans field in the end, either, because, considering the glut of contenders—now 16, now 17, now 8 or 9 or 10—they were all surprisingly, depressingly, same-same. In fact, I like to play a game in which I divide them into two convenient groups, Creeps and Goobers. Play along with me, because it’s fun for the whole family. Scott Walker? Creep. John Kasich? Goober. Rand Paul? Creep. Jeb Bush? Goober. Ted Cruz? Actually something really special—a creepy goober.

I listened to all of them, and now I’m calling it early: None of these guys can or will win the Big One this year. And it isn’t because Hillary is unbeatable or because Bernie Sanders is so goddamn hot.

It’s because of this tragic flaw: the negative appeal of negativity. The Republicans have become the party of negativity, of Gloom and Doom. Of a kind of curdled worldview. And ultimately, that’s not broadly appealing. I suppose there’s a twisted little irony here, but I really believe Republicans are doomed because they are doomsayers.

Just listen to them! Trump? Everything is a “disaster”—except for the few things he has personally built, branded, and bankrupted. Ben Carson says America is a “patient,” and the prognosis is in: We are in “critical condition.” Will we make it through the night? No one knows.

What’s Marco Rubio’s favorite line these days? “America is a great nation in decline.” Jesus, you call that a slogan? You had me at “great nation”! Stop already.

My fellow patients, I don’t remember presidential campaigns being like this, this relentlessly dark, even morose. I can remember the first George Bush, and guys like that ran on good old-fashioned fear, tucked inside a little positive messaging. Like a fear sandwich. There was always “a thousand points of light” or some other vague idea with lots of points in it. The second Bush promised “compassion.” (That was so sweet of him! We ended up with torture and a war that destabilized the entire Middle East, but it’s the thought that counts.)

Democrats have been a lot more uplift-y, even Reaganesque, which may have something to do with their winning elections. Bill Clinton claimed to have discovered “the Bridge to the 21st Century.” Obama patented human Hope. My question is this: Why can’t Republicans say nice things about America anymore?

I noticed the shift several years ago, a different tone creeping in—a cynical breed of biting sarcasm, which used to be the province of liberals. (The roles have been switched. Liberals are earnest now. They even seem more patriotic, because they…believe.)

The negative talk really took off with the dripping derision of Sarah Palin—again, the sort of thing that lights up crowds for a while but isn’t broadly appealing—and now it’s become the way Republicans talk. Even Trump’s motto, “Make America great again,” has that little knife-stab of “again.” America, the subtext goes, you suck. You need my help. No one wants that kind of sad public assistance.

Look, I’m a patriot. If the apocalypse is scheduled for tomorrow at three, I want someone to tell me that the next 24 hours are going to be AWESOME—like the American Century, but just condensed.

And hey, Republicans, I’m just trying to help. It’s too late for 2016, but let’s work on our 2020 game. There is always hope!

Jim Nelson

Editor-In-Chief

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