Monday, July 16, 2012

HOUSTON — Less than four years after President Obama swept into the White House with the overwhelming support of black voters, Mitt Romney appeared on Wednesday before the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People with a bold claim: “If you want a president who will make things better in the African-American community, you are looking at him,” Mr. Romney said.
His assertion was met with cackles and boos — as well as some tepid applause — and was emblematic of his entire speech, in which he tried to appeal to African-Americans, while still offering some tough medicine and policy prescriptions unpopular with them.
New York Times, July 12, 2012

PROVINCETOWN -  It was a steamy afternoon when Mitt Romney stepped up to the podium here at the very tip of Cape Cod during the annual Carnival Parade sponsored by GLAD (Gay, Lesbian, Advocates and Defenders).  The former Massachusetts governor seemed to recoil from the large microphone hovering before him at nose level.  The speaker ahead of him, Carnival Queen Crepe Suzette, came to Romney’s rescue, dramatically adjusting the microphone to an upturned angle inches from the presumptive candidates gaping mouth.  The six foot, seven inch Suzette mimed grabbing Romney’s posterior as she left the stage, drawing an appreciative roar from the glittering crowd.  Daye Lily, a parade organizer seated just to Romney’s rear, remarked later “his butt cheeks snapped shut like a rusty leg trap.  You could hear them clear over in Lake Winnipesaukee.”  Romney seemed to rally, exhorting the crowd to get behind him:  “If you’re looking for a good man, a man uniquely qualified for this nation’s top position, a man who won’t gag on the deplorable radical socialist agenda of the majority in the Senate, a man unafraid to wrestle this country’s economic problems into submission, you are looking at him.” 
Romney seemed confused by the enthusiastic response from the crowd, grinning nervously, large dark stains spreading  out from the sleeves of his blue blazer.  Unblinking, he appeared frozen in place as he joined the crowd in singing “Over The Rainbow”. 

FLINT – Dirty gray clouds hung low over this forlorn city, home to shuttered manufacturing plants, darkened streets and a conspicuous absence of law enforcement.  A small crowd of the homeless, robust looking rats and what appeared to be, at first glance, left-over Halloween skeletons dressed in filthy rags gathered in front of the stage.  Mitt Romney bounded up the stairs to the rousing power chords of “Born Free”, his campaign anthem by fellow Michigander Kid Rock.  “Hello, Flint!  Are you ready to rock?” 
Romney’s hale hearty query was met with silence save for the sound of a cold, greasy wind blowing debris among the abandoned, burned-out buildings.  The crowd edged closer to the stage, eyeing Romney’s TAG-Heuer watch and Bontoni hand-made Italian shoes. 
“I’m here to talk about jobs!”  The crowd pressed in, oblivious to the small Secret Service detachment guarding the stage. 
“Good jobs, lots of jobs.  Why, jobs enough for each of you to have five or six apiece.  That is, if you’re willing to work hard, sacrifice, wean yourselves off free stuff from the government!” 
The crowd fell upon the agents and began eating them alive.  Romney stuck to his prepared speech despite their anguished screams.  “I’m talking jobs my friends, strangely familiar jobs, one’s you’d recognize right off the bat, the kind of jobs they’ve got over in China and India!”
The bloody crowd lurched onto the stage.  Romney ran in place for what seemed like minutes before his feet caught purchase.  He barely escaped by jumping into a waiting Suburban that sped off down the deserted street.

ATTICA – Sunlight glinted off the barrels of the fifty caliber machine guns that swiveled in the guard towers surrounding the yard.  It was, decidedly, a strange place for a campaign rally, given inmates don’t have the right to vote.  But the Romney team decided it was time for out-of-the-box thinking, aware of the impact a large, televised captive audience could make, especially if the location was misrepresented as Branson, Missouri.  “Any bankers or CEO’s in the house tonight?  Ha ha, just kidding, my friends.  This place is for real criminals, drug dealers and the like.” 
The crowd seethed.  Sharp shooters sprayed a volley of rounds into the dirt just in front of the stage.  “Can’t wait to sample some of that good Branson barbecue I’ve heard so much about”, Romney said, winking at a large, tattooed inmate in the front row.  “My good friend Johnny Cash said it best when he sang for the convicted prisoners at Folsum Prison, and I’m paraphrasing here so bear with me:  ‘I bet there are rich folks eating in a fancy dining car, they are probably drinking coffee and smoking fine cigars’.  Wait a minute, that’s not right.  I meant the line ‘I know I had it coming, I know I can’t be free’.  “

A riot ensued and the warden declared a lockdown.  Romney boarded a helicopter, but not before imploring the inmates to encourage their “poor, broken hearted mother’s and father’s, too, for those of you who have one, assuming they don’t have any outstanding felonies and they meet the myriad individual state requirements, to vote for me in November!”

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