I swear to god there has never been a luckier candidate in history.
Seamus. Properly-sized trees. "I like to fire people."
The Olympics Ambassador. A Republican convention without soldiers.
Etch a Sketch.
But let me tell you something learned from a long, hard, stupid life:
Luck is fleeting.
Half the time it's gone before you even recognize it for what it is, leaving you standing in the air like Wyle E. Coyote, while the audience waits for you to look down and realize there's nothing underneath you.
Luck is fickle at best and a curse most times, as most of us confuse it for merit or wit.
There is, to my knowledge, only one somewhat reliable way to take advantage of a wave of luck, and that is to get paddling. Long before it breaks. You'll still likely wipe out and enjoy a nice sand-wich, but you'll have half a chance at a decent ride rather than a moment's exhilaration as the swell passes under you.
Like I said, Mitt Romney and 'Pubs 2012 is the biggest gol-danged wave of luck I've ever seen a national campaign get. They just don't pass this way every day. It looks like it could be legendary, a freaking Empire State Building of blue glass and white foam, ready to take us in way past the beach. Hell, we could ride this gnarly sucker halfway to West Hollywood.
But we'd better be paddling like maniacs or all we're gonna be seeing is the back side of that big, blue baby.
Thankfully, we're riding with a native.