Their “strongman” is a snowflake.

The not-so-fancy-dress that triggered a madman.

Look, I’ve got no love for Nikki Haley, I think I’ve made that pretty plain. I would however, not mind using her a little bit, only temporarily and not at all in a sexual way, not that she’s not pretty, cuz I’ll be honest, I think she is, but she’s just not really my type, and by not my type I don’t mean because she’s a woman, I mean because she’s a flip-flopping, former guy fawning, wishy washy weathercock who has flashes of sanity predictably followed by loooooong stretches of cyclical sycophancy, and I just can’t get worked up about someone so selectively spineless, it’s just not my bag, but I digress.

That said, if I were to channel my inner-Trump, and no, there’s never been a Trump anywhere near my inners, but for the purposes of this exercise, if I could channel him — I would take this moment in time in which I find Nikki Haley particularly useful, and I would take full advantage of her knowing that once she’s exhausted her usefulness, I can discard her into the pile of so many craven cowards who have gone before her, and walk away.

Because, while she doesn’t deserve the WORST fate by her associations with, and flights of fealty to, Donald Trump —- she does have a few things on the board for which we must dole out penance. And she’s landing some blows right now (not that kind of blow, Don Jr. have a seat), so this is the best possible time to unleash the Nikki on the not at all stable not at all genius that is Donald J. Trump.

So let’s begin.

She is still in the race. And that one thing above all other things sends Trump into a level of rage unlike just about anything else. Well, coupled of course, with that fact that she’s a woman. That’s like adding poison to the tip of the spear you’re about to thrust into his girdle.

‘You mean this person I know to be quantitatively better than me on like… every conceivable level, didn’t kneel down for me immediately?!! And she’s a woman??”

Merely existing gets under his paper-thin skin as it is. That she’s not only not bending the knee (yet, it’s coming we all know it’s coming — she will inevitably endorse him and it’s going to be painful to watch, and no, the word “coming” is not typically associated with a woman when we’re talking about Trump but I digress again).

But Nikki really needs to keep poking him. Only harder. Which admittedly sounds like some kind of torture banned by the Geneva Convention but either way — it’s those million pokes that really set Tinderbox Tan-Mom ablaze.

Trump won New Hampshire as expected, but his victory speech was anything BUT triumphant. In fact, it was a masterclass in narcissistic injury, but for the purposes of the melted circus peanut, we can refer to it by its more common name: a Trumpian temper tantrum.

Why? Because Nikki put on a pretty dress and gave a speech that kinda sounded like she thought she had won something. And that was all she did. But it lit his ass on fire like it was Steve Bannon’s bowels after his 16th Fireball before breakfast.