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So there I was, scrolling through the news like a normal person who still believes in things like “elections have consequences” and “maybe we should try winning once in a while,” when I hear that Mitch McConnell had himself a little unscheduled nap at his house in Washington.According to the leaked EMS audio — the kind that makes the spin doctors reach for the Maalox — they found him unconscious and had to go full television-drama on him right there in his living room. CPR. Cardiac arrest. The whole “everybody stand back” routine. Then they loaded him up and hauled him off before he could negotiate one last bipartisan deal with the paramedics.His office, in the grand tradition of people who think voters are mushrooms that should be kept in the dark and fed whatever, announced he’d been “admitted to the hospital for a mystery ailment.” A mystery ailment. Right. Because when your heart decides to take early retirement and requires on-the-spot revival, the natural thing to do is call it a “mystery” and hope nobody checks the 911 logs. That little detail only bubbled up this week, courtesy of actual reporters who still know how to read a dispatch report instead of just reprinting press releases.His people are now saying he’s “recovering and working.” Working on what, exactly? His memoirs, How I Turned ‘Republican’ Into a Participation Trophy? Because this is the same fella who’s been falling down more than a toddler on a sugar high — concussions, cracked ribs, the works — and freezing up mid-sentence like a Windows 95 computer trying to load a JPEG. And now we find out his ticker needed a manual restart.He’s 84. He’s missed more than twenty votes since June 14. Kentuckians haven’t laid eyes on him in public in weeks. Nobody will say if he’s still in the hospital or if the office is just running a Weekend at Bernie’s situation with better tailoring. But the paycheck? Oh, that keeps clearing just fine.Look, I’m not a doctor. I’m just a guy who thinks that if you’re a sitting United States Senator and you can’t bring yourself to tell the people who elected you whether your heart is currently on speaking terms with the rest of your body, maybe — and I’m just spitballing here — it’s time to step aside and let someone who actually wants to fight take the wheel. Someone who doesn’t treat “America First” like it’s a contagious disease you might catch from the voters.But what do I know? I’m the crazy one who still thinks the real mystery ailment in Washington is an entire class of Republicans who are allergic to winning and term limits.