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A voter takes a novel look at life from the GOP side

I awoke Tuesday morning to discover that I was the top story in the Inquirer. Not me, individually, and given the headline, "GOP gains as Pa. voters switch," I would be lying if I described this self-selected collective of Pennsylvanians who, since the first of January, have switched their political party affiliation, as "we" or "us."

I awoke Tuesday morning to discover that I was the top story in the Inquirer.

Not me, individually, and given the headline, "GOP gains as Pa. voters switch," I would be lying if I described this self-selected collective of Pennsylvanians who, since the first of January, have switched their political party affiliation, as "we" or "us."

But I'm one of them, may the Lord have mercy.

Across the state more than 85,000 Democrats switched their election-night map party affiliation color from cool blue to rage red in time to vote in the April 26 primary.

Along with more than 55,000 first-time Republican voters and about 42,000 independents who shed their innocence for the right to vote in this presidential carnival, Pennsylvania's Republican Party is enjoying the kind of national presidential electoral clout it hasn't had since Teddy Roosevelt walked around quietly threatening to whack people with his big stick.

And that stick looked even bigger when carried in those little hands of his, if you know what I mean. Of course you know what I mean, because this is what has happened to public discourse.

When you live in a bubble, gravitas is for losers.

Forget about making America great again. Let's make the Republican Party great again. I remember with respect the GOP of Dwight Eisenhower and Sens. Hugh Scott and Arlen Specter.

Republicans used to be the adult party, not the adult-rated one. I liked them better that way.

I'm no stranger to the dark side. I've registered Republican twice before, to vote for Sam Katz in a Republican mayoral primary. Of course, Philadelphia hasn't elected a GOP mayor in my lifetime. You could shoot a bucket of golf balls from a cannon at City Hall and they would bounce all the way to Cheltenham before hitting a Republican.

For years I was a registered independent, as were a lot of Inquirer reporters and editors who wanted to exercise their right to vote while remaining nonpartisan. But it dawned on me that being registered independent in Philadelphia was like being a registered irrelevant. All the important choices were made in the Democratic primary.

The same irrelevance has been true for Pennsylvania in the presidential primary process. The late April or early May primary day usually guarantees Pennsylvania a seat at the kids' table, along with North Dakota, at the future president's thanksgiving celebration for states that mattered.

The last time the outcome of the Pennsylvania primary loomed so large for a party's newcomer-turned-front-runner was in 2008, when Democrat Barack Obama limped into the state under a cloud of racial animus and questions of judgment based on hateful remarks made by his former pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright. Pennsylvania was seen as Hillary Clinton's last chance to stop Obama.

Both candidates got what they needed. On March 18 Obama delivered his transformative "A More Perfect Union" speech about race in America at the National Constitution Center, proving he could appear presidential and human during a personal crucible. On April 22, Clinton won a gritty primary victory, keeping her candidacy alive.

For the 60 percent of Republicans who said they were embarrassed by their party's presidential primaries in a March 21 New York Times/CBS News poll, this year's Pennsylvania primary could be the Blue Moon From.

What Donald Trump has proven is that remarks that were once unthinkable and unsurvivable for a political candidate, save Kleagle, Grand Cyclops, or Imperial Wizard, are now seen as refreshing by a plurality of Republican voters.

One regrettable off-pitch scream from Democrat Howard Dean after a third-place finish in the 2004 Iowa caucuses, and he was toast. A joke. Vanished.

But Trump can boast in his Nevada victory speech, "We won with highly educated voters, we won with poorly educated voters - I love the poorly educated," and he rolls on.

How could I not want to be a passenger on this train wreck?

Since registering Republican, I've been feeling kind of giddy. I have so many options. Do I vote for Cruz Control? Or for the Kasich Miracle?

Or do I double down on The Donald Apocalypse?

Like many contemplative Republicans, I will humbly seek guidance from a higher power through prayer and quiet meditation, hoping to answer to the ultimate question:

What would Rush Limbaugh do?

Clark DeLeon writes regularly for Currents. deleonc88@aol.com