Politics as a system works on platforms. Some would say pedestals or daises from which they introduce themselves, explain their goals and drives and occasionally let us know what they’re idealistic about while we get to know them. In a manner similar to a wedding cake, we see our idealized hopes each politician will be as beautiful to behold and will last as long as the plastic newlyweds on the cake. Then the truth hits if the baker places the wedding cake on a rotating pedestal. We see the cake from all angles as the rotation presents the 360 degree knowledge of all that’s going on. The plastic couple may be flawed in construction. The icing on the cake may be blemished and imperfect. You never know how the cake tastes until after the ceremony and then it’s too late.

Except, when you deal with politicians taking stands on issues they know will tighten the cords holding the catapult they hope will launch them to top of the cake. The candidate wants to displace the stiff, stolid statuette holding prominence beside the wholesome bride.

Marco Rubio is the latest to stand in the catapult’s sling in hopes of making his career take flight. He wanted to soar above the battlefield combatants and strike directly at the insidious heart of the Democrats seeking to maintain control of the Senate. The firing pin was pulled. He beat Charlie Crist for the cherished Senate seat. Bravo! We hoped we’d found a Hispanic Champion to capture the Conservative element we knew dwelled in the Hispanic community’s guarded heart. The new groom’s smile was radiant.

Then, as some knew would happen, we started seeing the flaws in the tuxedo as the wedding cake rotated. The jacket was draping incorrectly. The shoes were covered in icing and later, as we watched the progressive rotation, we saw Rubio had toilet paper hanging out of the back of his pants.

”O’, quelle horreur”! (The horror!)

Rubio, on demand originated by his advisors, issues the silky oratory reminiscent of another eloquent master of rhetoric; Beaurat Obama. Rubio almost always glided across the surface of the minefield we know as campaign speechmaking. The grandiloquence of his speechifying was perfectly metered to have just the right tone, just the right power showing Hispanics are more than demographics tallied to determine the strength of a voting bloc; Rubio had stature and a commanding presence so rare in somebody so young. He was anti-amnesty. He said he was committed to that position.

At least until he started working on the real meat and potatoes of senatorial immigration legislation. Then he showed more than toilet paper hanging from his tuxedo beltline. There’s a real stink coming from having stepped in something the political pup left behind.

He cuddled up to people like Chuck “The Schmuck” Schumer. He became the darling of the left in committee meetings. He became cooperatively bipartisan. He became conciliatory toward his new left-wing buddies. He changed his position in the final presentation from being the groom on top of the cake to being stamped, stuffed and formed like a waffle, which is what he’s done by accepting amnesty before security on the Mexican border. His bipartisanship efforts show there’s no real conviction to be the Hispanic Conservative leader the Republicans wanted and REAL conservatives were waiting for. He’s unjustly going along to get along. He’s “kind sorta” like John McCain with newer, shinier Conchos: all flash and little substance to indicate any kind of steadfast resolve to stick to the point he was trying to make as a champion of any issue.

He’s proven to be a waste of space in the wedding bed once he and bride climbed off of the cake to get down to the real business of immigration legislation. Rubio’s flip-flopped and gone to who-knows-where to look at the air-brushed women in the girly-magazines rather than do what he said he’d do when he proposed.

He gets the same result he’d have gotten if he stayed in the bed but he doesn’t have to share it with his bride.

The guy’s a waste.

Thanks for listening.