It wouldnt be easy. But it could have been easier.
A down-economy would historically benefit the challenger, as suggested in
the oldest axiom in politics: People vote their wallet. For the middle, at
least, that was pretty much it. Simple.
But that was a simpler time a time pretty much before my own, I suppose.
A glorious era when we could hate minorities without having any social
programs from which they could benefit and we could tie them to. We could
more authentically more genuinely hate them
A far more romantic time when Mexicans were lazy not scurrying
through desert brush and armed border patrols to find
Indeed, before things turned to shit, Mexicans would just snooze, play oversized
guitars, and offer bargain basement prostitutes even live animal sex
shows with a girl and a poncho-draped donkey for the visiting American with
more sophisticated tastes.
It was wonderful.
And Mexico our friend would additionally play host to Americans
escaping religious persecution, not having been allowed to possess four or
five simultaneous wives. But I only mention this as an unrelated, off-topic
No, these magnificent times might not have compared to the true glory days,
some one hundred years prior, when one could make blacks work, but
many would cite the 1950s as Americas Last Hurrah
it was in this twilight of Americas greatness that Mitt Romney would
spend his formative years the magical decade when all of the trees
were just the right height. A time when couple-matching fisherman knit sweaters
didnt prompt ones gag reflex as it does today. Instead,
Sears family portraits in coordinated uniforms were revered and openly displayed,
propped proudly on the piano.
And if these department store images of the costumed litter could be accompanied
by a framed portrait of a son in military dress uniform, great. Dead, so
much the better. I mean, if you were going get be killed, the least you could
do was to let your family turn you into a conversation piece while guests
had cocktails around the perimeter of the piano that, oddly, no one knew
how to play. And in the 1950s, this additionally offered the mother the
opportunity to protectively clutch the younger son to her bosom as a touching
display of somber anguish eyes gazed in the distance that could
be witnessed by all present in a Baldwin baby grand social setting.
Oh, Madge, said Kitty.
Yes, so many others had experienced this same, childhood existence
now only preserved in kinescope, with the bloomed highlights of a filmed
cathode ray tube as well as the bloomed highlights of romanticized
recollection. Still, many would ultimately move on, go to college, read some
Ginsberg, drop a tab of acid and fuck.
But no. Not Mitt. Not even with the French girls.
Long hair was for faggots, it was reasoned by Mitt, as the deserving objects
of hazing and harassment. Mere frat house amusement when one grew bored with
drives in a convertible through town after every girl on campus had
already seen the letter sewn to ones sweater. Not that it really
mattered, mind you. Mitt didnt want to screw the town girls, anyway.
Not really any girl. How, after all, would one even begin to explain the
Moreover, what fantasies Mitt may have harbored belonged to Ann. She was
16. They had met in elementary school when, as a Cub Scout, by his own
reflection, I threw pebbles at her when she rode by on her horse.
No shit. Im not making this up.
He showered her in love. He pelted her with rocks. It worked. Ann was seemingly
smitten with the abuse. For the local girls, any attention at all was attention
appreciated not to, in any way, be confused with the Republican rape
platform, mind you. That would come some years later.
The two would marry. And the newly-formed Romneys would do so in the loving
name of Jesus Christ, our Lord who came from planet Kolob and had
additionally once visited Detroit on his American tour.
But, as it turned out, it would be Mitts ongoing relationship with
Kolob that would lay the foundation for the future candidates foreign
policy experience. That, and being surrounded by a bunch of dirty foreigners
when he was a Community Organizer at the Olympics.
That Was Then, This Is Now
In my own childhood, coming many years after Mitts, I recall be counseled
on matters of social sophistication something that Ive always
carried in my head to this day. I was told that true (social) sophistication
meant having the ability to find myself in the most lavish dinner party at
Sands Point or the most rat-infested ghetto in the city
and to be equally at-ease
in either environment.
And more than that tied to the same self-assuredness meant
not feeling the need to synthesize the customs or rituals of either group,
Sands Point to ghetto.
.. and then theres Mitt Romney.
Unsophisticated. So much so that even the unsophisticated, themselves,
see it. And while many may characterize it cite it as
being out of touch, the awkward Romney presence is truly the
embodiment of the unsophisticated, as well as the uncultured
and knowing French doesnt offset the breadth of ones lack of
understanding and the inability to communicate with those who speak yet other
Beyond that if there is a beyond its
not so much that Mitt Romney is wooden. Rather, the wood itself is
seemingly fake like the adhesive shelf paper thats available
in Walnut. Cheap loudspeaker enclosures from the 1970s. The
woodgrained Formica coordinates used in budget motels. Like that. So no,
hes not wooden. Hes a photo-etched laminate.
In truth, there have been times when Ive almost felt bad for Romney.
Its as if, at times, he really wants to connect with people
so very much, in earnest BUT
know how. And the strained effort to synthesize
just makes it worse.
Love those grits. Love those cars. Love that organ music.
RUMORS SWIRLED that one of Romney's sons had been actually
fathered by the late singer, Freddie Mercury after previous
speculation had been abondoned, realizing that Russell Brand would
have been too young in the timeline.
But its this very lack of connection that served Romney so well in
the past only now biting him in the ass as he has to come in
contact with the
expendables. Previously, his inability to connect
allowed Mitt to flourish, seeing people as mere over-stocks that
needed to be liquidated. Blown out. Written off
. Deducted. Discarded
parts in a capital investment Chop Shop. Keep the leather seats and the VDO
gauges. Sell the rest
Now Romney has to take that junkyard stage with a stiff and uncomfortable
walk that makes Jack Webb look carefree-swish and mechanically teeter
at the microphone like C3P0 in Star Wars. And it is here
before the forgotten, he has to inveigle the parts in the salvage yard
that not who he had previously dismissed
For several months Romney promised to bring his experience at Bain Capital
to the presidency. Im sure he would. At least hed try. But rather
recently, his own campaign advisors have now advised that the subject of
Bain be deemphasized now that people better understand
that Romney & Company made much of their money by pulling the gold dental
work and wedding rings of the corpses that they, themselves, created ...
or leveraged. Not my word. Theirs.
But make no mistake. By all accounts, what Romney did, he did very
well. The problem: He may not know how to do it
any other way. And
underperforming states cant be moved offshore. But they could
be in many ways abandoned.
Still, there is a caveat to this neo-conservative nirvana. If Romney is
successful in his bid for the presidency, the Republicans might have two
years with him into the midterm. After that, it becomes anyones
guess except Romneys. It wont be his guess. It
will be his calculation.
For since leaving Bain Capital, Romneys chief investment
been himself. Thats the new goal, looking for the best return. And
in maintaining the quality of that investment, wanting continued returns,
the neo-conservatives may end up being the new
The difference is, they would have had every warning
but just didnt
listen, turning their heads even forging justifications for
what use to be far more moderate views from their chosen candidate. And not
just regarding one view. Or two or three. Or four or five.
All of them.
So it wouldnt be like they would be the victims of an unexpected sucker
punch. Rather, theyd be the victim of themselves
The victims of their own in the literal sense of the term ..
As for me, despite my snarky sarcasm and mere recreational ridicule (its
my hobby), I dont think Mitt Romney is a bad man. I dont.
He has been in the literal sense of the word an
inconsiderate man. And like most inconsiderate people, he
doesnt even realize it. He does it without ill-intention. He does it
without evil truly. He does it, instead as the inconsiderate
without thinking. Or rather, to be more fair and accurate, the
thinking is in
It makes it all more the strange that hes run or has been victim
to one of the most awkward campaigns as Ive witnessed (ignoring
third-tier candidates who have always run for the presidency). From his
spokespeople who specialize in misspeak, to one of the oddest,
amateurish rollouts of a running mate as Ive ever seen
. on a
non-news day weekend where far more people would buzz about the closing ceremony
at the London Olympics.
Romney had actually sharpened his skills during the primary season, becoming
a better debater and more deft candidate if an awkward gambler, placing
$10,000 bets on a frat house whim. But since that time, the Romney campaign
has been, to the greater extent, bush league (no former presidential pun
Awkward. Odd. Wince-provoking.
MITT & ANN ROMNEY: Joined together by a mutual passion for lack of
But who knows? The pathological hatred that has permeated much of America
may carry the day for him, in any event.
I find little comfort in electing someone who has a sizeable amount
of cash, without imagination with no interests, no passions, no hobbies,
no known pastimes and simply wants to be President because hes
and has nothing else