Mitt-piphanies

Photo by c.berlet/publiceye.org; courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

An afternoon's worth of random musings about Mitt Romney, former governor of Massachusetts and current candidate for the Republican nomination for the 2012 U.S. presidential election. (Or some such.)

Trust me, despite the constant score updates for the current political dodgeball game in progress, I try to think about Mitt as little as is humanly possible. But Mitt is almost refreshingly creepy/crappy compared to the hideous shitty-ness offered up in heaping, musky piles by the likes of Michele Bachmann, Rick Santorum, Ron Paul, Newt Gingrich, Rick Perry, et al. (John Huntsman doesn't offend me--yet--but practically no one's heard him speak.)

* * *

After posting on Facebook last night that I was mock-horrified to see ol' Mitt on the cover of Parade (the magazine that arrives as an insert in your Sunday newspaper, at least if you live in the U.S.) in blue jeans and a blue-and-white checked shirt (very baseball, hotdogs, apple pie, and Chevrolet, n'est-ce pas?) but still with that vulgar, it-came-from-the-'80s oiled hair à la Michael Douglas as Gordon Gecko in Wall Street, a friend pointed out to me that Mitt has a son named Tagg.

Tagg? WTF kind of name is Tagg for a kid, no matter how to-the-beehive-manor-born and oleaginous his father might be? As yet another friend quipped, "Did the Romney family use the same baby-naming book as Sarah Palin?"

Tagg. Gah.

Why not tattoo the word "PUTZ" on the child's forehead as a babe, toss him out of a moving vehicle, and let him fend for himself?


Which got me to thinking--does everyone in Mitt's family have a one-syllable name with a vowel followed by double consonants?

Tagg, Nett, Mitt, Sott, Rutt, and sometimes Kytt?

* * *

I find it kind of funny ha-ha and funny strange, too, that only now am I starting to hear the dreaded "flip-flopper" label applied to the Generously Anointed One. Maybe I wasn't paying attention or maybe the Repubs figured that this time the alleged taint of Mormonism (please, like any of the Protestant or Catholic candidates have any reason to be sanctimonious about their beliefs) wasn't going to rub off and rub out Mitt's chances at the polls.

So, now, finally, Mitt's naysayers have whipped out their giant spatula and are making like a pancake with the flip-flopper label. Tee hee. Too late.

First of all, duh. When Mitt was governor of the Bay State he was pro-abortion and pro-gay rights, perfectly in line with the majority of the Commonwealth's populace. Now that he is running for POTUS (twice, no less), he's agin' both. Perfectly in line with the rabid-and-likely-to-vote members of his own party and assorted independents and probably a number of silent-but-deadly Dems as well.

But no duh. I think Mitt's record on the issues just goes to prove that he has no record on the issues. In other words, Mitt's no flip-flopper. You have to be able to flip in the first place in order to flop.

* * *

Despite this needling, ribbing, poking, and many other descriptions that probably sound dirty to most Republican candidates, I sorta kinda feel sorry for the Mittster. In these moments, when I think of Mitt, I'm reminded of a joke my North Carolina frenemy Spencer likes to tell:

Q. What does a pretty Southern Belle say to let all the gentleman know that she is "in the mood"?

A. "I'm drunk, y'all!"

Q. What does an ugly Southern Belle say to let all the gentleman know that she is "in the mood"?

A. "I SAID, 'I'm drunk, y'all!'"

That joke may improve when you hear me do it in dialect or when you've had a little to drink yourself. But you get the idea. No matter how many times or how loudly Mitt tells everyone that he's drunk, no one, I repeat no one, wants to see what's under that hoop skirt.

'Cause I suspect Mitt is mostly just flop.