Steve Hilton knows he can’t win

Bruh—you’re toast.

One final moment in the sun.

So over the past few days I’ve been fascinated by Steve Hilton, the MAGA Republican who is about to get boot stomped and fed moldy gum once the votes are counted and Xavier Becerra is deemed the victor and California’s new governor.

I am certain Hilton can’t win. For multiple reasons:

1. He’s a Republican in California.

2. He’s a MAGA Republican in California.

3. He’s kind of a tool.

4. He’s run a mediocre campaign.

5. He smells of moldy cow.

And what always, always, always fascinates me in times like these is this: Steve Hilton 100 percent knows he won’t win tonight. The population tells him so. The times we live in tell him so. The polls tell him so. Like, there are literally zero indicators he has a hell’s chance. Which makes me wonder: As he does event after event, as he continues to shake hands and make promises and urge people to submit his name … what is he thinking?

Is there a delusional morsel of optimism? Is it ego flooding reason? Is it all performative; a last-gasp effort before he offers up a resume to Fox News and My Pillow TV in hopes of becoming the next Chris Christie?

I truly have no idea.

As this wraps, I’ve got no beef with Steve Hilton. He doesn’t seem like a particularly awful person; just a misguided MAGA fool thrust into a race he couldn’t win in a state that never bought what he sold.

After today, he’ll drift into the abyss; a long-ago Trivial Pursuit answer on a faded card, positioned alongside Gopher from Love Boat and the 1980 Phillies.

Farewell, Steve Hilson.

I mean, Steve Hilton.

Whatever.