The Clown Car is slowing to a halt. No longer is it filled to the bursting with its notorious cargo of floppy-shoed, face-painted, bulbous-nosed clowns. Where once there were as many as nine clowns in the circus, the count has fallen now to an anemic four.

Somewhere along the line the calliope fell silent, and nobody called for the band to play “Parade of the Clowns” when the half-empty Clown Car rolled into town. It was as if the crowd had grown weary of the same calcified clown expressions painted on their dour, droopy faces.

Gone is the “Yeah, I’m that dumb!” smile of Governor Rick Perry. Our loss is the State of Texas’ gain, and they’re welcome to it! Gone, too, is the pinch-ass black Pizza Man who couldn’t keep his hands off the anchovies. And quickly forgotten, too, is his suggested 10% flat tax proposal, which always sounded suspiciously like a “three pizzas for the price of two” Super Bowl Special. And thankfully gone is everyone’s Foster Mom of The Year, and her vacuous smile and unctuous genuflection to those buzz-killing Tea Party Crazies who, if the government was a wooden ship would set it ablaze, instantly complaining it was no longer seaworthy!

And so the pack has thinned and we are left with four Gladiator Clowns who will fight each other to the death. That fellow at the wheel with the double-sided smile is Richie Rich. Far and away the wealthiest and most good-looking of the pack, Richie is known for his skills as a shape-shifter. `

Sitting in the passenger seat is “Grumpy” who enjoys the longest tenure in the Republican Primary Circus, his libertarian views so antiquated you need a quill pen to copy them down. And in the back seat are the two roadblocks to what was always seen as Richie Rich’s cakewalk to the nomination—Rick Sanctorum and Newt The Snoot. Newt, by the way, also a skillful chameleon who, after traumatizing the nation as Speaker of the House wants a second chance as President.

So now we have to listen to these four Clowns through the spring, traveling from state to state, venting a toxic discharge of venom, fear and censorious harangues against the poor, the sick, the elderly, the unemployed and the President of the United States, all of whom are strangely disliked by the wealthiest human beings in our country whose views and interests these clowns really represent, and for whose millions they fastidiously shake their flirtatious butts.

What does it say about the crowds to whom the clowns make their appeal that such selfish and mean-spirited principles hold sway? That gays should once again have to prove their equality, that rather than tax the wealthy we can no longer afford to care for each other? On top of that, each clown except for Grumpy, would reflexively build up the army so in a few short years we’d have to find another war to fight.

I can only hope the people for whom these clowns have fashioned their show will prove to be a small segment of the population. In their zeal to protect their guns, the Constitution and their tax dollars, they have transformed themselves into Roman Citizens of Old who, I imagine, once sated with their circuses and gladiatorial entertainments, would hie away to eat their bread in silence.

That would be nice.