John McCain doesn’t want the Republican Party to outlive him.
He’s afraid. Afraid that, after he’s gone, his political widow will remarry someone younger, sexier, more fun.
Thursday, March 7, 2013: Senate Office Building, Washington, DC In the dark cloisters of his Senate office, McCain leans back in his chair, tie loosened, jacket tossed casually over a guest chair, fingers interlaced behind his white head, and broods.
He sees those rascally young libertarians–the ones who actually want to own their own lives–plunging into the party.