The spectacular self-immolation of the Wendy R. Davis gubernatorial campaign.
Wendy Russell Davis is on fire. And I don’t mean that in a good way.
I mean it in a five-alarm, set-her-own-skirt-aflame, billowing-human-torch kind of way. To say that Davis is smokin’ hot is not a compliment. It’s a campaign incineration status update.
The Democratic darling of the Hollywood Left and glamour gal of abortion thought her path to the Texas governor’s mansion would be a pink-sneakered walk in the park. Instead, her single-issue campaign has combusted.
The high point of Davis’s career came last year when she flamboyantly opposed state restrictions on late-term abortions in the wake of Philadelphia death-doc abortionist Kermit Gosnell’s baby-killing spree. Gosnell’s conviction provoked national revulsion at abortion gone wild. But Davis’s radical supporters at the Texas Capitol donned tampon earrings and waved uterus flags in solidarity with abortion rights at any cost. Planned Parenthood ghouls and celebrity femmes latched on to La Davis.
Militant gender-identity politics, however, can only get you so far.
