Once again, New Hampshire has demonstrated it is as different from the rest of the country as the Himalayan Mountains are from Jack in the Box’s seasoned curly fries. Like green sand and aluminum crockpots. As Dorothy almost said after being whisked away by a tornado, “We’re not in Iowa anymore, Toto.”

While the Hawkeye State focused on winners, just eight short days later, the New Hampshire Primary was all about the losing. They don’t call it the elephant graveyard of presidential aspirations for nothing. It’s where marginal, delusional and occasional candidates go to die. And to infer there was plenty of political demise this time around is like insinuating that New Orleans on Mardi Gras… bustles.

In fact, the Granite State was strewn with loser debris so deep, on the way to the airport, the media had to put on galoshes to keep from stepping in the gooey remains of the various presidential campaign meltdowns.

There were more losers than the Carolina Panthers’ rooting section at the Caesars Palace sports bar. The state was full of the same quiet sobbing as a “Divorced Husbands of Supermodels Support Group” smoking section.

Carly Fiorina was such a huge loser, she up and quit. You could say she aborted her own campaign. This time, she really has video of it and actually knows where you can find a copy.

Chris Christie disproved that whole “too big to fail” theory by also waddling down the walk of shame. As Vince Lombardi famously told us, “quitters never win and winners never quit.” In Christie’s case, waddlers never fly and flies never waddle. And headcheese is much better when broken into its component parts than taken as a whole.

But Governor Christie did complete his self-appointed task of riding Marco Rubio into the walls so hard it made both their heads spin. Let’s dispense with this fiction that Marco Rubio was not a huge loser. Or to put it another way, let us dispense with this fiction that Marco Rubio was not a huge loser. Or to put it another way, let us dispense with this fiction that Marco Rubio was not, ah, you get the idea.

Some experts surmise that Rubio’s debate glitch was due to being so close to magnetic North, and that his programming should be back to normal once safely ensconced in bowels of the South.

Despite winning the primary, Donald Trump must still be counted as a loser, because he has to stare into the mirror 90 minutes every morning to construct that hair.

Ben Carson lost, because he came in eighth or 12th yet continues to stump and nobody cares. But neither do they have the heart to tell him, making him… loser squared.

John Kasich came in second, still making him a medium- sized loser because now he is required to slog down to South Carolina.

Even next-door neighbor Bernie Sanders lost. Not quite a favorite son, more like a favorite cranky uncle, he reserved a place on the loserdom bandwagon by crushing Hillary Clinton by 22 points, only to discover she ends up with the same number of New Hampshire delegates when the superdelegates are factored in.

They don’t call it the establishment for nothing, Senator Sanders. Who’s feeling the burn now, baby?