Filler: What Paul brings to the campaign

As a predictor, the Iowa Republican presidential caucuses generally identify some candidates who won't get the nomination, and some who will get jobs or guest spots on Fox News. Identify the nominee? Not so much.

But the caucuses also, finally, kick off the presidential election season. Political junkies are now like NFL fans after a three-year run of exhibition contests: Just as there is a limit to how many times you can watch meaningless games where passes bounce off the chests of slow, undersized rookies from Eastern South Dakota State, you can only listen to Rick Perry and Michele Bachmann debate for so long.

So today is the day, and gaggles of journalists are droning about retail politicking, grabbing video of candidates eating pie in diners and explaining that the weather can have a big impact on Iowa results, a well-known fact that is almost always untrue. But they aren't talking about the most fascinating aspect of this election.

Ron Paul, on one issue or another, strikes at least a minor chord with nearly everyone. What you hear people say, again and again, is, "I'm not saying he should be president. I'm just saying he kind of makes sense when you listen to him."

I won't assess the racist and anti-Semitic newsletters from Paul's past here. They matter greatly, but discussing whether they should keep Paul from being president is like debating whether Jets coach Rex Ryan's bad attitude should disqualify him from being "America's Next Top Model." Regardless, They're not landing the gigs.

Paul first ran for president in 1988, appearing on the ballots of 46 states as the Libertarian Party nominee. He got 432,179 votes out of about 91 million cast, meaning his views were only slightly more popular than the veal entree at a dinner sponsored by People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

But look at what people are saying now. What's morphed certainly isn't Paul, who hasn't changed his tune since they invented the Victrola. The voters have changed, and the establishment candidates have not.

Paul wants to talk about decriminalizing drugs. Even in studies conducted by scary federal employees ringing doorbells and asking stunned, possibly stoned residents, "Have you ever smoked pot?" more than 40 percent of Americans say yes. More and more folks are coming to believe the "War on Drugs" is just a shockingly expensive attack on the people of the United States. Yet no serious candidate discusses decriminalization.

Paul wants to talk about the wisdom of borrowing money from China to disperse it to other countries. We're the world's sad parent, using cash advances we can't afford to spoil allies with those sweet new weapons they've been dying for. Yet no viable candidate discusses a wholesale reappraisal of our foreign policy.

Paul suggests that operating more than 700 foreign military bases doesn't buy us love, or peace of mind, or even peace. More Americans are coming to believe a worldwide military empire isn't affordable, or in our best interests. Yet no mainstream candidate is willing to discuss a significant rethinking of our military spending.

The lesson of the Ron Paul candidacy is that we're now at a point where the willingness to speak honestly about meaningful issues automatically disqualifies you as a serious candidate to lead the nation.

Paul won't be president, and shouldn't be. His belief in a sort of Darwinian society in which the elderly, least able and less fortunate get no help from the government appeals to hardly anyone. But whoever is elected ought to respect, and even adopt, some of his points along with the candor and consistency with which he makes them.