Friday, April 20, 2012

Dog Bites Man

In the business of political endorsements, I have written that very few carry any real weight or influence with the electorate.  Ted Kennedy’s early endorsement of Obama helped him, as did Chris Christie’s early endorsement of Romney.  Beyond a few powerful outliers, however, most endorsements are meaningful only to a few inside the Beltway pundits and lonely bloggers who live in their parents’ basement.  Republicans eventually endorse their nominee and Democrats do the same.  As David Putty once deadpanned, “You gotta support the team”, although you do not need to become a face painter to prove your partisan loyalty.  You just need to release a public statement.

This season, there is one pending endorsement that has those who do not inhabit the insular world of political operatives all atwitter.  Everyone has been patiently waiting to hear from Seamus, the Romney family Irish setter that has become famous for his 10 hour ride atop the Romney station wagon during a 1983 vacation trip.  Seamus knows Mitt Romney and the Romney family in a particularly intimate way, having slept at the foot of the bed for years.  His opinion on the presumptive nominee’s fitness for office has a vote value that a Congressional or celebrity endorsement could never hope to match.

After much coaxing, Seamus is ready to speak.  Today, MSRP has fought its way to the top of the media dog pile and obtained the first copy of Seamus’ imminent press release regarding his position on the Romney candidacy:

I can no longer remain muzzled.

I have been dogged with questions about my relationship with the Romney family, and reporters have been sniffing around for weeks for answers.  Today, I unleash the truth.

To begin, I must regretfully withhold my endorsement of Mitt Romney for President of the United States, and I will outline my reasons. 
He cannot lead.  The Mitt Romney I know is demeaning to others and does not maximize their capabilities.  He would bark a variety of contradictory commands at me and demand that I refer to him as “Master”.  His leadership style was at best inconsistent, at worst, indicative of a man without full control of his mental faculties.  One minute, he’d shout “Sit”, then “Stay” then “Come”.  Despite my most enthusiastic efforts, he offered no positive reinforcement beyond the occasional Snausage treat which frankly, tasted awful.  As one of his loyal followers, I could only run mindlessly in circles and chase my tail.  Needless to say, nothing ever got accomplished.  How could such a man inspire confidence at a Cabinet meeting if all he can muster are one word contradictory orders?

If my treatment is any indication of how he plans to approach the housing crisis in this country, we should all curl up in the corner on a frayed piece of carpet and chew on a penny loafer.  The American dream of the middle class family is a nice home in the suburbs.  Well, Middle America, how would you like living in one of Romney’s dream houses like I did?  My slum house had no front door, no insulation, no indoor plumbing, and dirt floors.  It was surrounded by a chain link fence.  I had to go to the bathroom out of doors like an animal.  This is a peek at Romney’s Third World American nightmare.

On social issues, it is Romney who has learned the art of rolling over.  Mitt Romney may say he is pro-life today, but I have the medical records to prove that his position “evolved” too late to save my manhood.  It was Mr. Romney who signed the order for my castration as an innocent pup.   Thanks to Romney’s shameless drive to reduce the surplus population and minimize future expenses, my God-given ability for procreation was snuffed out.  I now sniff the backsides of other dogs without the hope of offspring.  He may appear pro-family with his Mormon values, but the callous elimination of my dog bone is evidence that under the cloak of family privacy, he acts anti-litter.  The best you can say is that he clearly favors a Cut and Cap plan, and I am the victim of that policy prescription.

Romney’s economic policies are no better.  I was as close to Mr. Romney as any man, and yet I can say without reservation that none of his wealth ever trickled down to me.  I was relegated to begging for scraps from his table, and I fear that his fiscal policies will force America’s poor to do the same.  If he were to be elected and follow through on his promise to pursue the Ryan budget, it will be the voters who will be forced to knock over kitchen trash cans for sustenance.  It will be the voters who will be forced to gnaw on sticks for nutrition.  Like me, you’ll be forced to accept only those handouts that the Master deems necessary to keep you obedient.  This is not my America.  What are we, German shepherds?  Heil, Herr Romney?

I know that it has been said that I loved long trips strapped inside a box on top of the family car.  This is just another example of Romney believing that separate but equal facilities are acceptable for travel.  Paging Rosa Parks!  She would not move to the back of the bus, and I should not have been forced to the top of the car.  Romney didn’t stop there – he forced me to drink from a different water foundation than the rest of the family.  Discrimination is ugly in all of its forms, but Mitt Romney does not agree.  He treated me as less than human, and that is wrong. 
Don’t be fooled by his soft tones and the playful melodic cadence of his voice on the stump.  Don’t allow a few patronizing scratches behind the ears distract you.  Four years of Mitt Romney will trap Americans behind an invisible fence that will separate you from freedom indefinitely. 
Every dog has his day.  Today is mine.  I cannot endorse man who rubbed my nose in my own poop to “teach me a lesson”, no matter how many milk bones he offers me.  I will not be bought, although after this hits the press, I might be sold. 

This Country’s Best Friend

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