Mitt Romney Is a Blithering Dick:
Let us say, and why not, that you are a Republican male, white, probably a lobbyist or Super PAC fundraiser, one of those positions that pretty much guarantee that you are a terrible person. And it's Sunday morning. You've successfully avoided church once again, but the wife has taken your kids to pretend to worship God or Mammon or something. You've got your mug of coffee, the kind that you know for sure is harvested by slave labor in Africa, "Unfair Trade," you joke. You've already jacked off to burn victim snuff porn, using matches and a paperclips to get it up, and, wiping off your singed and weary dick, you turn on the ol' Fox "news" to see what Mike Wallace's urine dribble of a son, Chris, is up to. And there, filling your TV, is the image of your defeat, your failure, your pathetic dream now faded. Mitt Romney is on the show, and he's being spoken to as if his opinion on anything other than hair gel matters in the least.
Smiling, laughing that uncomfortable "heh," horrid Ann attached at the hip, Christ al-fucking-mighty, there he was, mocking you, reminding you of the insane mistake of nominating him to be your standard bearer. "Is this a cruel joke?" you would be right to wonder.
For, indeed, Mitt Romney was every inch Mitt Romney yesterday on Fox "news" Sunday; he was the blithering dick, the elitist prick, the ignorant cock.
Asked about the "47% of you can suck my balls" line that seemed to sink his campaign, Romney said, "ObamaCare was very attractive, particularly to those without health insurance. And they came out in large numbers to vote." Is this a surprise, that people without health insurance might want health insurance? That people might have been turned off by Romney's own "plan," which involved letting states do whatever they wanted or nothing and that everyone can just go to the emergency room if they're so fucking sick?
When Wallace brought up Romney refusing, like every other GOP nutzoid, to accept a deal with $10 in spending cuts for every $1 in revenue, Romney's answer was a profile in the kind of courage that didn't get him elected: "[B]ecause if you've said that you're not going to raise taxes, then they'd say Romney's changed his position. He said he wouldn't raise taxes, now he's saying he will. He's changed his position." But fuck that anyways, because Romney said such a deal is a "fairy tale."
And then there was Romney's belief that the president can work some kind of magic hoodoo on the Republicans in Congress. You want a fairy tale? Romney said, "He's the only one that can say to his own party, 'Look, you guys, I need you on this' and get some Republicans aside and say -- pull them off one by one." Yes, you can be sure that Obama hasn't tried at all to pull Republicans off one by one (which sounds like individual hand jobs, but whatever gets a deal done).
Finally, Romney got around to blaming the browns for his defeat. "The weakness that our campaign had and that I had is we weren't effective in taking my message primarily to minority voters, to Hispanic-Americans, African-Americans, other minorities. That was a real weakness," he said. "We did very well with the majority population, but not with minority populations. And that was a -- that was a failing. That was a real mistake." Majority population would be white people.
And the browns hated him because the minorities likes to get paid, mothafuckas: "I think the ObamaCare attractiveness and feature was something we underestimated in a -- particularly among lower incomes." Because, see, the minorities are just too fuckin' dark and dumb to understand that Romney was an awful human being who would make an awful president.
In one of the least helpful pieces of advice ever, Romney counsels the GOP on minority outreach: "We've got to do a better job taking our message to them to help them understand why we're the party with the ideas that will make their life better." That's pretty much the same as saying, "You know, if I keep hurting my ass by kicking it constantly, I should probably stop kicking my own ass."
Ah, fantasy Republican, how you must have felt yesterday. How many Scotches did it take before the regret and disappointment tilted into a haze that you could handle, assuring the hangover that you can't seem to shake?