Whoa. We’re not sure we’ve ever seen Mitt Romney look so, well, unpolished if we’re being kind. If we’re being honest, he looks like a group of flying monkeys decided to have their way with his heretofore unflappable hair follicles. And where’s the smug smirk? The pandering grin? The rock-solid confidence and irrefutable take charge attitude? Dressed in a rumpled shirt and pants with a wilted shirt collar and the pallor of a plate of carbohydrates, he looks like a guy who’s taken to eating at Arby’s. Christ, the road after the election seems to be full of tear-stained pillows and sweat-soaked hairdos lacking in pomade or attention. Mitt Romney now pumps his own gas in La Jolla.
Well, it’s really no wonder when your first post-election comments sought to blame all the people in this country who didn’t vote for you by continuing the mantra that you’d like to sink 47% of the country in an ocean liner off the coast of the Cayman islands as you exclaim that they were rewarded with “gifts” for their vote. Add to that the excitable rabble of the GOP where even once eschewed hacks like Bobby Jindal have said that you’re off your nutter for your comments. All have resulted in a swift distancing from Romney by the GOP the likes of which we’ve never seen before. We imagine it’s the GOP’s recognition that to embrace him would cause him to let loose little poops of regression that would forever stain the party as a group of old white men hell-bent on holding on to a way of life with the soulless lack of creativity heralded by the Bill O’Reillys and Rush Limbaughs of the world. That would be by locking themselves in a room and whispering, “There’s no place like home! There’s no place like home!” like some sort of old, bloated, Dorothy from Kansas, white man tyranny episode where they beg to go back to the halcyon days of black and white stagnancy and pseudo-supremacy in fear of what a Technicolor world would produce.
So what’s a guy like Romney to do now that he’s been officially ousted to the point where most Republicans wish he never existed? Well, for one, start pumping your own gas out in public. No more fancy car rides flanked by Secret Service for you, chap! Maybe spend some time counting your money since the chances of you getting a pundit job are looking mighty slim. Oh, the gaffes. So, so many gaffes. No one can take the chance that you’ll say what you actually feel on national television. “Kill the poor! Save the rich! Let’s burn some money! Dancing horses for every millionaire who can hear my voice!” How about a book deal? Well, we dunno. For the last year or so we’ve all pretty much heard your varied thoughts on domestic issues and foreign policy, and well, we just don’t care anymore. So, er, yeah. America just really wants to break up with you — but not over coffee. Yup, you’re getting the “fuck off” text message, RMoney. It’s sad, because for some reason there are a bunch of masochists who’ve kept Sarah Palin employed mostly for entertainment value, but for you Mitt, we’re really just not that into you. You are now the bat-pig Contagion virus the GOP is struggling to get away from.
Hey, buck up, though, guy. Maybe you, Clint Eastwood, and Paul Ryan can put together some kind of “Sore Losers of the Right Wing” tour. Clint could box with an ape like in one of his “Any Which Way” movies and you and Paul could sing songs badly about America and grouse about how life isn’t fair, and that you really, really would’ve won the presidency if it wasn’t for all those damn “Blacks, Browns, Women, Youngs, and Hippies!” Veteran sore loser John McCain and his Benghazi puppet show can be your opening act.
Yeah, that’s the ticket. You guys are already doing a brilliant job at that particular Vaudevillian show of inanity. And that’s a shame, Mitt. For a second there you had an opportunity to rise above the cretinous, self-absorbed, backward-looking GOP-destroying rage monsters on Fox News and elsewhere. There was a moment where you could’ve accepted the President’s offer to discuss your plans with him and somehow salvage a bit of dignity to rise above the rabble in your party and look like a leader; a uniter in fact. But, you know, you got in the way. Pump on, Mr. Romney.
Update: Oh, geez. Mitt Romney, who we guess has now morphed into Carmen Sandiego, has been spotted at Disneyland! And, yeah, looks like Mitt’s been eating his feelings and maybe perhaps has a new contract guest starring on Howdy Doody? What’s with that shirt? Yikes. It’s almost as if Andy Griffith became a huge money tycoon and sold Mayberry to an evil corporation or some such.
