Bust out the gin and tonics because this is shaping up to be one heck of a long hot summer. Weather- wise and politics-wise. All over the world, hostilities are flaring like out of control wildfires. While here at home, it’s the words that have grown from fiery to scalding. And the only way to describe the actions- incendiary. Impeachment and lawsuits and child immigration are all raging hot topics. The partisan sweltering also includes the 2016 presidential sweepstakes, which is heating up like an egg frying on a chrome bumper in a Death Valley parking lot at high noon in August. The usual and unusual suspects on the Republican side are spending enough time at the Iowa and New Hampshire Humidity Festivals to qualify as part time mosquito repellent reps and if they aren’t, they should be, because they’re going to need all the extra money they can get. This marathon is going to be as expensive as it will be ugly. And that’s saying something. Meanwhile, the plot thins. Paul Ryan is busy figuring out how to reinstitute debtors prison. Mike Huckabee is checking the Bible for loopholes. Marco Rubio is taking deodorant baths in order to convincingly deny climate change. In Florida. And that Rand Paul fellow is simply a feuding fool. He finally patches up a blistering squabble with Chris Christie, then goes and starts a new one with Rick Perry that quickly heats up to Def Con 4 levels with both belligerents spitting like rudely awakened cobras. And no mongoose in sight. Sounds like he just doesn’t like governors. All this torrid internecine warfare has led party moderates to call for Jeb Bush to get into the race. And he might, but first he has to get mom’s permission. After all, it was Barbara who astutely diagnosed the national fever known as Bush Fatigue. If the Jeb were elected, that would make the last 5 Presidents: Bush-Clinton-Bush-Obama-Bush. Like a club sandwich. With the Bushes as the white bread. And how apropos is that? This family is whiter than Justin Beiber’s Nova Scotia Fan Club.