I Am So Sorry, You Guys.

I awakened this morning a citizen of a new era. No longer will people in my state be compelled to marry only those with complimentary plumbing or fake a migraine to score some magic snickerdoodles.

But here's the thing, and I do feel badly. Throughout this tumultuous time, I've been a little too obnoxious, a bit too snarky, for some of my compatriots.

And for that, I must apologize.

What began as a final Facebook appeal to other members of my choir, materialized into a philosophical battle, ending in some hard truths about your humble bloggist.

Monday night, feeling inspired and giddy after a spirited dinner table chat regarding the impending election, I pecked out the following status update:

"Just listened to Romney's '47%' speech with my daughters. I can't believe anyone who has kids or wants to retire someday or serves in the military or thinks someday they may have a costly medical procedure, would vote for this guy. Let's hope he returns to whichever mansion he crawled out of."

Inflammatory? Absolutely. Offensive? Hopefully.

My Facebook universe, like most, is occupied by predominately like-minded thinkers. A cool cloud of agreement settled in over my stance, the smattering of "likes" lighting the blue and white page with those familiar red kibbles of acknowledgment and approval, making me salivate like a Pavlovian Pekingese.

Then this response popped up from an old fraternity brother:

"And your employer is in the 99% correct?" (Please excuse the plethora of spelling and grammatical errors you're about to wade through. He obviously felt the need to expedite his message sans that liberal spell checking entitlement.).

I paused, confused about what my former brother in beer quaffing (I'll call him "Barton") was talking about. The number he threw out concerned the majority of disenfranchised Americans which spurred the "Occupy Wall Street" movement. I was referring to Mitt Romney's comment that forty-seven percent of America doesn't pay income tax and wants lots of free stuff.

Finally, after weighing responses with varying degrees of severity, I replied, "Barton, my employer isn't a person. Apparently, you're confused about the difference."

He exhibited further confusion by including the world's richest individuals as members of the ninety-nine percent, rather than the one percent:

"I'm very grateful that Bill Gates (an individual in the 99%) gives my employer money to help the people in Zambia battle Malaria. There are many others who are in the 99% that give to charity. They don't have to give but they do. And many benefit from the money they make in our capitalist system. Ever heard of the Ford Foundation, Carnegie Foundation, and The Rockefeller Foundation. They were all created by individuals who were successful.

"...Walmart Foundation gave 958.9 million in cash in 2011."

Oh, no he didn't mention Walmart. Game on.

Others joined the fray. A high school friend chimed in: "958.9 million? Well that sounds about like 47% of the money they save each year not providing health care for their employees, using third world countries to produce their products in poor working conditions, and not honoring their leases on many of the stores they have closed this year."

Another fraternity brother added, "Your strong character and bravery are apparent as you stand with the strong against the weak. Well done."

Barton doubled down. "Corporations employs human beings and poor people don't employ anyone."

Touche, my English-challenged college graduate.

I snapped a bit. "Dude, how twisted are you? Are you saying corporations are inherently virtuous institutions to which we owe a debt of gratitude? They're responsible for most of society's ills, i.e. Walmart, Union Carbide, Monsanto, big tobacco, etc. People aren't poor in spite of most corporations, they're poor because of them. Holy shit."

He fired back. "Tim, I've been poor growing up in Thailand and to hear you and Chris talk about the poor get's (sic) rather annoying. I don't think you guys  have any idea what being poor is about. I've worked very hard to get where I am and I've been greatful (sic) for the opportunities this country has provided me. I just find it interesting that those who have lived here all their lives don't seem to appreciate what they have."

I rolled back in my chair and stretched, trying to make sense of Barton's views.

As a final salvo, I replied, "My wife teaches fifth grade at a high poverty public elementary school with 87% free and reduced lunch. A lot of the kids are on their own most of the time because their parents work two jobs. Some are actually homeless and eat all three meals at school. We have to buy recess balls and school supplies due to educational budget cuts. Don't patronize me. You don't know my background. Chris and I are sticking up for poor people, but you're not! Conservatives make themselves feel better by convincing themselves that it's a level playing field. It's not."

"Patronize?" he retorted. "I've read your writings. You are the king of condescending essays."

Ouch. Game over. Come to Jesus, Tim.

He's right, and the truth hurts.

I am the exploiter of the weak. I do run roughshod over America's messengers of patriotism, portraying them rather as greedy hypocrites, racist pundits and religious zealots. And it's time to clean the slate, so here goes.

Rush Limbaugh, words can't describe my remorse regarding my attacks on your misogyny and drug dependence. You are a true American and I take back what I said about your wearing an ill-fitting bra. You don't. It's obviously quite expensive and expertly hugs your moon-like terrain of torso folds.

Sarah Palin, I've treated you so unfairly. I promise to make it up to you should you choose to run in 2016. By then, you'll be the hottest great grandma in the lower forty-eight.

Donald Trump, you are a patriot, a sage and you are grossly misunderstood. I pledge my continued support—as soon as you produce some documentation that you've gone back on your daily lithium drips.

And finally, Willard "Mitt" Romney, you fought the good fight. You've endured endless vitriol at the point of my poison pen, and my oath to you rings as sacred as those golden plates translated by Joe Smith just outside of Rochester, which then went missing. Nary another cross word shall grace my page...

...as long as you go the hell away forever. 

At least I'm the king of something.

Let's Re-Elect Barack Obama.

Finally, it's almost time. Good God, are you ready for this thing to be over?

I know I am, but it's my own fault. I mainline so much of this political stuff, I'm having trouble finding a vein these days.

Ever since Chief Justice John Roberts' stammering oath billowed wisps of partisan divisiveness into that frozen January sky, the 2012 election season has burned like a crusty coating of eyelid eczema.

And I've been out of lotion for four years.

Maybe it's because I live in a state where we cast our votes solely through the infrastructure of the United States Postal Service. Perhaps I'm concerned that the extinct ritual of closing the curtain and turning the crank in a room filled with volunteer octogenarians smelling of crock pot chili, will lead would-be voters down a trail of apathy and inaction.

What a shame it would be for those who mail it in to "mail it in," you know what I mean?

So I'm going to try to lay it out one last time, on the oft chance that you haven't yet decided. No judging.

Granted, the differences in presidential candidates are starker than they've ever been, and the only reason I can imagine that you can't make up your mind is that you've been listening to "Dave Matthews, A to Z" on the local classic rock station since March of 2010, and as soon as the extended jam version of "Stay" ends, you'll do a little research.

That's supposed to be around 2:30 on Sunday.

So yeah, let's talk about your choices. Oh, did I just use the word "choice"? Heavens to murgatroyd, what a great segue.

Mitt Romney considers personal liberty and freedom of choice as the cornerstones of his campaign. He reveres the promise of a truly free society with nearly equal vigor as the planet he will someday rule after transcending the veil of death and settling into eternity a mere seventeen light years from God's home planet of Kolob.

And you know that Ann— already taking little campaign side trips to Ikea to buy beds and rugs for when the grandkids finally die and can visit.

Anyway, Romney maintains that maximum choice leads to maximum benefit:

We should be free to choose our kids' schools, and therefore, a government voucher system should be established. Although private schools will then be subsidized, leaving precious little to a public education sector already in crisis, things will somehow work out. A massive undereducated cross section of America will then be free to utilize their talents in manufacturing cheap goods for poverty-level wages. Unemployment will drop drastically.

Boom.

We should be free to choose our doctors, and by no means should insurance companies be denied the profit motive. Shareholder wealth will seep through the cracks of capitalism, benefiting both the uninsured and those with pre-existing conditions.

Like he said, it's all about choice. Stop smoking and eating fast food, fools. You're free to scarf down fourteen Reese's on Halloween night and wake up with a zit on your forehead that looks like Willy Wonka, but take care of yourselves and you won't need to wait for six hours in a cold emergency room. It's your body, after all.

Bam.

Oh yeah, except when it comes to reproductive rights. Then it's not your body anymore, it's his—his and those other old, white dudes who use terms like "legitimate rape" and "the rape thing." Those are his buddies, so even though he used to be one hundred percent pro-choice, Romney has decided to weigh in somewhere around ninety-three percent in favor of that whole liberty thing.

Look, things aren't fantastic now, but they're certainly better than they were when Bush left office four years ago. Back in the forties, people branded Roosevelt a socialist when he enacted Social Security. Since then, the poverty rate for the elderly has decreased from forty-eight percent to twelve percent.

Medicare stirred up another commie-baiting shit storm during the 1960s, yet Lyndon Johnson helped reduce the senior poverty rate another seventy-five percent.

Conservative friends, I know you believe that we progressives defer to government to solve all of society's problems. We don't, but this health care thing isn't working. The United States is the only developed nation without a systematic plan to take care of its poorest and sickest citizens.

Romney claims to have a solution, but have you heard it? I haven't. Apparently, it's too long and too complicated to explain, according to Paul Ryan.

Well, here's an idea that's neither long nor complicated—Mitt Romney is the wrong guy for the job.

Let's re-elect Barack Obama.

I Guess We Know What They Don't Want.

What are your core beliefs?

I know that's a pretty loaded question. Most of us have sort of a "belief pyramid," where our really intense convictions are firmly ingrained up top where the stonework can't get tagged with graffiti or some teenage boy's spent Copenhagen wad.

And then down near the ground, we've got beliefs which, while solid, can be subject to change, such as:

Sure, I definitely believe Farrah was the sexiest of Charlie's Angels, but if Jaclyn Smith had nestled up to a fifteen-year-old Tim on a rainy Saturday morning in 1977, he would not have ejected her from the premises for soiling his already crusty sheets with stale saltine crumbs.

While I firmly believe that Budweiser tastes only marginally better than one of my great uncle's asparagus-laced urine samples, I would not turn one down as a last grasp at pain management while attending a block watch party or one of Seattle's many dog funerals.

I believe that the music industry has hit rock bottom and I find today's artists slightly less appealing than my great aunt's pickled asparagus. Nevertheless, if someone waved free VIP tickets to a Beyoncé show, I'd squeal like a gerbil and immediately hop onto eBay for a good deal on an old gently owned mesh half shirt.

But wouldn't you agree that on certain issues, we just don't waver. We're pretty set in our core beliefs about religion, our children's education and of course...our politics.

Since I'm politically further to the left than Vladimir Lenin and George Clooney in the carpool lane, I thought I'd just take the temperature of the other side—those uptight, humorless, sexually repressed, hopelessly perverted folks whom I oppose with blurry eyed rancor.

No, not the cast of Jersey Shore. I'm referring to the Republicans.

Prior to gathering for their big drunk in Tampa a couple of weeks ago, a blue ribbon GOP committee hammered out the official 2012 Republican Party Platform. I'm not really sure what inspired these stuffy whities to bake up the most fascist hot dish since Mussolini tried his hand at Frito casserole, but boy, did they do Betty Crocker proud.

Here are a few of the core beliefs they submitted, tenets which the committee has advanced as non-negotiable stances of the Grand Old Party:

A Human Life Amendment, which bans abortion in all cases, including rape or incest. Leading the committee was Virginia's governor, Bob McDowell. I can understand why he opposed the whole incest thing. It would make him feel obligated to ask his mom/aunt and dad/uncle some pretty tough questions.

A salute to mandatory ultrasounds as prerequisites to abortions. A salute? That's weird in itself. They're basically saying, "Your punitive and unnecessarily invasive probe is wicked awesome!"

I wonder if they'd salute my idea, which would require men who want vasectomies to first be probed with a tapered tether ball pole. Probably not.

No legal recognition of same-sex couples. Does that mean it's okay to illegally recognize them, like while driving without a seat belt or shooting off bottle rockets?

No new taxes, except for war. Who can afford schools when, according to Mitt Romney, you're in a death struggle to keep up with the Soviet war machine? For all we know, at this moment they're developing a weapon which can take out every drive-through bay in America. Imagine actually walking into a fast food joint?

I understand, it's hard to think the unthinkable.

So, Republican friends, this question is for you: I know you don't necessarily subscribe to any or all of your party's platform.

But your guy does. Does he have your vote?

Why Mitt Romney's Got My Vote.

I finally got him last night.

Or should I say, he got me.

Mitt Romney's hit some potholes along the way, no doubt about it, but he keeps coming back like a a grinning rash with graying temples.

Remember pretty early on, when he had to explain the whole dog misunderstanding? He handled it like any seasoned CEO would.

Apparently, it was son Tag's job to secure Seamus to the roof of the car anyway, but Tag had forgotten to pack the nail gun. Governor MittGyver deftly deduced that, while a nail gun is certainly the most reliable option for attaching a dog to the top of a car for a twelve-hour trip to Canada, a crate may work just as well.

Although the entire family believed Seamus would revel in a high speed joyride on the roof of the Family Truckster, he became so distraught that he lost canine muscle control all over the crate's interior.

Faced with few choices, Mitt chose to lead. He pulled into a gas station and hosed off both Seamus and his personal traveling compartment. Family vacation...on!

He's also experienced some difficulty relating to women's issues, actually, to women in general. I understand; he's got five sons. That's a six pack of non-caffeinated Romney beef locking horns with each other on a daily basis. No room for hens in that cockhouse.

For a while, as governor of Massachusetts, Mr. Romney was pro-choice, because after all, it's Kennedy country. He played their game masterfully, and once he broke free of those liberal New England shackles, he was free to represent the soul of America.

All along, he'd intuitively felt that women possessed too many rights, another point of which he and I concur. I know I'm not alone in saying that I really screwed up raising my first set of kids, and I'm aching for a chance to redeem myself by raising one or both of my daughters' children.

Thank you, my champion.

Same-sex marriage? Are you kidding? If it were legal, can you imagine what's next—a man and a donkey legally adopting donkey children?  It's good to know he can lean on his faith, one which has pretty much opposed non-traditional marriage since 1890.

Neither he nor I support federal legalization of medicinal marijuana, and once again Mr. Romney sacrificed for us. He freaked out really bad one time when he tried it in his dorm room, and he was sure his dad was just outside the door for four hours. Since then, he firmly believes that no American should ever have to be that paranoid or super hungry.

But he still hadn't shoved me all the way up his camp until last night., when he brought out the heavy artillery.

Clint Eastwood.

Mr. Eastwood utilized one of those tried and true acting exercises he learned to master while in drama school during the twenties. He spoke to an empty chair, pretending that Barack Obama sat in it.

When he wasn't stumbling over lines, Clint played the invisible president like a Duncan Butterfly. For an eighty-two-year-old, that guy can almost act.

By the time Governor Romney took to the stage, I'd already built up such a lather from Clint's stirring monologue and the video vignette of Mitt's magical family that I couldn't contain a quivering-lipped "Cmmfff," from escaping my mouth.

And just as with the dog incident, Romney seized command.

He promised twelve million jobs.

Twelve million! Finally, white people can pick my produce.

He pledged to yank healthcare from the 6.6 million Americans who became insured under the president's Affordable Healthcare Act. Good, because I'm sure at least half of those people let their kids take two suckers at the doctor's office.

Finally, he promised to assert U.S. might and influence worldwide, because "a free world is a more peaceful world." And since there's only a skeleton crew left over in Iraq and things are definitely powering down in Afghanistan, Iran looms as the next logical threat and business opportunity.

And I'm all in.

Mitt Romney sees America for what it is—a dirty, dirty place that could use a little cleanin'. And since it worked so well before, he's holding the hose again.

What do you say, America? Are you ready to be hosed?

Stupid Men, Volume 73

Remember Time-Life Books?

During the pre-internet age, they served as definitive series on thousands of topics. If you had to write a report about Neanderthals for fourth grade science, you could drop into the school library, slide out a volume on early primates and copy a few meaty paragraphs word-for-word.

You then gave yourself the tools to pen a substantive thesis in a mature voice. Plus, what were the chances your teacher would ever figure out that you'd copied the whole thing?

Time-Life produced millions of pages covering a spectrum of subjects, from the Third Reich to the Art of Sowing. And after exhaustive research to ensure that my claim rings true, I've determined that one subject has evaded the storied publisher's editorial sensibilities:

The Time-Life Library of Stupid Men.

I've covered my share of moronic males in the past—Rush Limbaugh, George W. Bush, Senator Larry "I'm only gay in airports" Craig—and now I'm starting to think the series should be more of a monthly magazine than a finite hardbound collection.

Because the stupid dudes just a keep on being stupid.

Who would you say deserves first mention in this installment: Vladimir Putin or Todd Akin? How about we call it a wash and start with Putin.

The Russian president obviously has paranoid psychosis characterized by megalomania and delusions of persecution...either that or it's because he's short and could never get his eyebrows to grow out all fierce like Brezhnev could.

Whatever the reason, Putin's brought the old hammer and sickle down on the members of Pussy Riot, a feminist Russian punk rock band.

Oh, and by the way, Pussy Riot, thanks for stealing the name of my softball team.

Here's what the anonymous performers did at Moscow's Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. After this video appeared online, three members of the group were arrested and charged with hooliganism motivated by religious hatred, convicted and sentenced to two years' hard labor.

How can I put this? It was a complete and total richard move by Putin, throwing a tantrum and punishing a few artists who spoke out in a highly creative fashion. Tell me that video isn't entertaining, yet completely harmless.

And how about our favorite congressman from the Show Me state, Todd Akin (By the way, doesn't he seem a little old to have the name "Todd?"). Mr. Akin also covered his load with the Tarp of Stupid, stating that, in cases of "legitimate rape," women's bodies have a natural ability to stave off pregnancy, and thus, abortion should be banned in all circumstances.

As the great Mike Brady once said, "You know Cindy, you're not only hurting the entire Republican Party...you're also hurting yourself. And is that the kind of hurting you're hurrying to hurl?"

Legitimate rape? Does that mean sexual assaults in prison are legitimate since men can't impregnate each other, yet a pregnancy resulting from some guy raping his wife or girlfriend doesn't count?

All I can hear right now is Lisa Loopner yelling, "Todd, sometimes you're such a dumb bell!" (courtesy of Gilda Radner)

Ever since Akin shat himself, his allies, and more importantly, his financial lifeline, have shriveled to the size of a tropical fish I found on the rug while doing pushups.

One day, it just wasn't in the tank and about a week later, there it was on the rug, looking like a tiny version of a dead and shriveled up ET sprawled by the riverbank. So yeah, that's what Congressman Akin's chances have amounted to in his senatorial bid against incumbent Claire McCaskill—all dried up and wrinkly.

And now, with both Vladimir Putin and Todd Akin reeling from overwhelming public backlash, their stars must soon dim and make way for the next vitriol vomiter to grace the cover of Stupid Men Weekly.

Who will it be? I'm betting on Romney again.

Mitt Romney is: a) stupid b) naive c) insane d) all of the above

You've got to hand it to Mitt Romney.

Acting under no duress or even the influence of a strong frappuccino, Governor Bushwood stood before the NAACP on Tuesday and chose to lambaste our first African American president.

Hey, Mitt, Charles Bronson called and wants his Death Wish back.

In my jaundiced view, this type of move from the presumptive Republican candidate emanates from one of two schools of thought:

1) The man has testes the size of recess balls, which explains the high-waisted airiness of his stone-washed mom jeans.

2) He's performed an act of stupidity not equaled since 2005, when Laura Bush was out for the weekend getting her hair refinished, and George decided to try a frozen pizza. Man, did it taste bad all frozen.

Romney wasn't even afforded an opportunity to choke out the rest of his sentence about nixing Obamacare before he was hosed down with a thick stream of boos and heckles. Nonetheless, he stood and looked blankly, freezing into that erect posture and odd half-grin to which we've grown accustomed.

Look, at least most of us can empathize with the situation the guy thrust himself into. Whether or not we agree that it was ill-advised for Mittens to court America's black vote on the merits of his platform, we've all entered the hornets' nest at one time or another.

While vacationing with my family in a cozy, coastal Oregon town a few years ago, I opted to wear my "Not My President" t-shirt, showing George W's monkey mug, front and center. One guy, who'd apparently just procured a delicious double scoop of rocky road on a waffle cone, looked at his young son and remarked, "Look, Mikey. That guy's a communist."

First of all, if I'd known that Cannon Beach, Oregon was a hotbed for conservative thought, I may have worn my "Go ahead and keep huggin' that tree while I get my chainsaw" tank top.

And secondly, who uses the words "communist" anymore? It's as dated as the terms "negro," "housewife" and "She's not here right now. Can I take a message?"

After the catcalls subsided, Romney persisted. He appealed to his audience to put race aside and consider which candidate offers the best prospects for putting Americans back to work. Let's break that statement down a bit.

Romney's ascendancy in church leadership positions coincided with his rising stock in the business realm. He was promoted to vice president at Bain Capital in 1978, a year after he'd been appointed counselor to the president of the Boston Stake of the Mormon church.

1978 was also the year LDS elders finally allowed African Americans  admission into its lay priesthood, a privilege which had previously been denied. A younger faction of the church had been pushing for such reforms during the student activism of the 1960s and 70s, but Romney didn't partake in the protests.

Fast forward to Tuesday's NAACP speech. Governor Romney claimed, to paraphrase, "I'm your guy. I've always been your guy. You just didn't know it."

Has he? Back in the 1970s, back when he held lofty positions in his spiritual community, he stood silent in the face of discrimination. Do you think he acted differently at his day job as a private equity consultant?

Did Mitt Romney look out for the best interests of African Americans on an economic level while blocking their full membership in his church? If so, his convictions are as sociopathically compartmentalized as someone who sells rabbits for pets or food.

And now he expects black America to believe that he knows what's best for them.

What an insult.

Romney: "Firefighters and Teachers are Bankrupting America."

"I'm optimistic about the ability of the American people to do the right thing right now. What happened yesterday is just another signal—and it will echo throughout the country. What you're seeing is the people in Wisconsin...they looked at the record of a strong conservative who cut back on the size of government, who helped bring down taxes, who said we have to reform public sector unions that have asked for too much."
 -Mitt Romney, speaking at a fundraiser in San Antonio, Texas, June 6

Yup. I have to admit, I do agree with presumptive candidate Romney on this one—we, the people, do possess the ability to do the right thing.

And that's where Mitt and I get sucked to opposite poles like we've strapped on magnet-filled backpacks. Shoot, I missed his awkward attempt at a high-five.

Mittens, in his rosy diatribe, was referring to Wisconsin's unsuccessful attempt to recall Governor Scott Walker. Just to recap, as one of Walker's first executive mandates, he'd decided to strip the state's public employees of their collective bargaining rights.

Before the aromatic droplets of lemony fresh Pledge had dried on his new IKEA desk, before he'd even figured out how to log into his email, Walker was staring out the window at hordes of pitchfork-toting teachers, and, ironically, torch-bearing firefighters.

The teachers had approached the capitol steps in an orderly manner because, you know, you never run with forks.

A bit of history: Prior to the first education unions of the early twentieth century, teacher pay was meager but it was one of the few professional jobs open to women. Working conditions were dismal, with class sizes often eighty or more students, and tenure wasn't transferable; it was only available for as long as she remained at a particular school. In fact, tenure had evolved as one of the few perks available to those who were paid low wages—not just teachers.

Pensions or health benefits? Ha! good one.

The International Association of Firefighters was formed in 1918. Apparently, these guys grew tired of working eighty-four-hour weeks and twenty-four-hour shifts, earning twenty-nine cents per hour and covering their faces with wet towels before sprinting into a wall of fire.

Pensions or health benefits? Hey, if you can afford a wet towel, you can afford a wire brush to denude the charred skin from your third degree burns, you smoke-hacking divas.

Okay, look. I'm not some Stalinist pinko who thinks that public sector unions are perfect. Just like their adversaries in state executive branches, leadership has proven vulnerable to corrupt influences. And dead weight will endure as a by-product of the job security ensured by membership.

But here's the thing: America's middle class, and its prosperity, can be attributed to its labor unions. The fair wages, retirements and healthcare created after World War II allowed for a new quality of life for tens of millions of our citizens.

When your boss asked you to throw that cardboard box of uranium in the dumpster on your way out, you could finally tell him, "I'm going to need to go ahead and not do that."

Your eight-year-old daughter could finally play with the lawn darts, rather than weld a minimum of three hundred per shift.

And now, candidate Romney sings the praises of a man who's temporarily stifled his opposition. With all the lip service paid to educational improvements and higher test scores, I wonder if Governor Walker will allocate more resources to education now that the teachers' union is off his back.

Nah.

I wonder if, now that Wisconsin's firefighters have been stifled, Walker will back legislation to support first responders. I'd assume that, in light of recent threats posed by chemical, biological, and even nuclear attacks, he would become emergency workers' staunchest ally now that they're out of the way.

But I don't think so.

Thanks for weighing in on this issue, Governor Romney. I'm appalled at your response...but not surprised.

President Romney? Excuse Me While I Lose Full Muscle Control.

And then there were two.

Well, okay, actually four, but I think the only reason Newt is still around is for the free grub at those rural Utah diners.

I can just hear that old fuzzy Muppet now: "Good morning, North Ogden! Hey listen, I understand that I may be disqualified from the Utah primary ballot since my five hundred dollar check bounced, but gee whiz, this strawberry rhubarb pie sure is tasty. Hey Callista, are you gonna eat yours? I didn't think so. Slide it over, babe."

And of course, Ron Paul's not going anywhere. He's stayed the course with his message, asserting that our Constitution upholds his freedom to accumulate fewer delegates than Mitt Romney's great-great grandfather had wives.

So yeah, we're down to the big dogs now—our President and the aforementioned Willard "Mitt" Romney are about to step into the octagon. But I'm going to try something new this time when comparing these battle-tested candidates, since in the past, my writing's been laced with subtle hints of liberalism.

Oh hell, as my great uncle would say, it's downright commie horseshit.

I'm going to analyze the competitors based only upon the merits, solely on platforms which they've firmly established through years spent in realms both private and public. Let's begin.

Core beliefs on faith:

Barack Obama—while some stubbornly maintain that the President was born not of our nation and was raised Muslim under the radical tenets of an Indonesian madrassa, he is actually a Christian and a former member of the Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. He keeps his current church private for the safety of his wife and daughters.

Mitt Romney—while some, including the former Massachusetts governor, stubbornly maintain that his Mormon religion is a form of Christianity, others contend that Christianity's belief in heaven and hell contradicts the three levels of Jesus' kingdom which Mormonism proscribes.

Romney has chosen to go all-in on a belief in the celestial kingdom, the terrestrial kingdom and the telestial kingdom, a three-storied condo, hopefully with a car elevator.

Oh, yeah, and the whole Book of Mormon thing was supposedly transcribed by a former snake oil salesman turned prophet, who enjoyed smoking the weed. Lordy, if I had a nickel for every Book of Mormon my friends and I came up with during college...

Core economic beliefs:

Barack Obama—Dating back to his earliest days as a community organizer, President Obama has focused on empowering the poor, in providing resources to the least fortunate under the auspices that "a rising tide lifts all boats."

Mitt Romney—Dating back to his earliest days at Bain Capital, Romney has focused on consolidating wealth through purchasing corporations, gutting and outsourcing their workforces and selling them at a profit for maximum shareholder return.

His infamous proclamation, "Corporations are people, my friend," illustrates that in Mitt's opinion, "trickle down" means it's fine for a corporation to piss all over its employees.

Formative years and exposure to American society:

Barack Obama—Raised by his grandparents and single mother in lower middle-class households, Obama experienced the daily life lessons which exemplify the challenges and struggles of ninety-nine percent of America.

Mitt Romney—Raised as the youngest son of American Motors Company president George Romney who later was elected governor of Michigan, Mitt attended Cranbrook, a private preparatory school and formed early bonds with a privileged progeny of corporate moguls. He met his future wife Ann while she attended Kingswood, the sister school to Cranbrook.

The dossiers continue to paint portraits of disparate worldviews, like Romney's desire to repeal Roe vs. Wade and his reluctance to release his personal income tax returns, which Obama has revealed back to the year 2000.

Okay, and here's the last thing. Barack Obama is just a likeable man, the kind of guy I could sit with over a nice IPA and NFL playoff game. Okay, that's not fair. I suppose I could have a beer with Mitt Romney, no wait, a coffee, no wait, a nice glass of water, no wait, a Perrier.

Forget it.

April Foolishness: The Week in Review

Sunday marked the informal yet infamous "April Fools Day."

Legend holds that the custom of playing tricks on friends originated in France during the middle 1500s. The European calendar, which formerly recognized the first day of the new year as April 1, was shifted in 1564 to January 1 by decree of King Charles IX.

Those who disliked the decision and continued to observe the first day of April as New Year's Day quickly became the butt of jokes and tricks by friends who dubbed them "April Fools."

I know it's hard to fathom such rudeness from the French, but it's all right there on the internet.

And like the twelve days of Christmas or the eighteen of March Madness, last week seemed to coagulate into the Seven Days of April Foolishness.

Perhaps I became sensitized to these acts of idiocy based on my own behavior. On Wednesday I weighed myself twice at the gym—once before taking a shower and again afterward, somehow rationalizing that a pot-roast sized piece of filth had been surreptitiously pried off my scapula by the water stream and rendered me a peck lighter.

Or maybe my cackles were elevated when my eleven-year-old daughter and I, after purchasing a five-dollar hamster, were advised by the pet shelter lady to have the rodent neutered by an exotic animal veterinarian, even though it faced a life of solitary confinement.

Isn't that kind of like asking Charles Manson to invest in an IRA?

Whether or not last week provided a larger than average dose of foolishness, I'll let you, the enlightened reader, decide. Here's some of the nonsense  that went down:

Former Massachusetts governor and current clueless blue blood, Mitt Romney, felt compelled to relate a joke to Wisconsin voters:

"One of the most humorous I think relates to my father. You may remember my father, George Romney, was president of an automobile company called American Motors...and as the president of the company he decided to close the factory in Michigan and move all the production to Wisconsin.

Now later he decided to run for governor of Michigan and so you can imagine that having closed the factory and moved all the production to Wisconsin was a very sensitive issue to him, for his campaign...Every time they would start playing 'On Wisconsin, On Wisconsin,' my dad’s political people would jump up and down and try to get them to stop, because they didn't want people in Michigan to be reminded that my dad had moved production to Wisconsin."

Hang on a second. Ever tried typing while laughing so hard that your eyebrows grow? Whoa. Okay, better. Nothing busts me up like a good old fashioned closed factory joke. I hope I don't think about that while riding the bus tonight. People will move away from the cackling lunatic.

Then there was Geraldo Rivera—you know, the guy who led the search for Al Capone's vaults, the most epic snipe hunt in the history of the small screen?

Yeah, same guy, and last week he claimed that Trayvon Martin was partially responsible for his own death because he'd been wearing a hoodie when he was shot and killed by a neighborhood watch volunteer.

Geraldo, you've got a point, and but for the grace of God, so goes Bill Belichick after all those years trolling the New England sideline rocking that notorious thug wear.

Finally, the coup de grace of a week drenched in nitwittedness occurred Saturday night, when drunken University of Kentucky basketball fans rioted in the streets of Lexington, setting cars and couches ablaze and hurling beer cans in a celebratory orgy over their team's Final Four victory.

As asinine as is the act of destroying property to express happiness, go ahead and slather on another coat of imbecility to this behavior, because the basketball team hadn't even won the championship game yet—for all these cretins knew, they were overturning Ford Escorts and USA Today dispensers over a second place finish.

I could list further examples of idiotic behavior last week, like the British supermarket chain which distributed forty-seven thousand David Beckham posters to English school children which displayed Beckham's large arm tattoo of his wife in lingerie, or Rick Santorum saying something on tape and then denying he said it and getting really mad at a reporter for bringing it up.

But you get the idea. And since Santorum and Romney have rendered their verbal gaffes a weekly occurrence, I'm wondering if Groundhog Day might be more a more appropriate metaphor.

Would the Las Vegas of gay marriage also have two-for-one prime rib?

I've been a little edgy, lately. Big surprise, right?

It's like that feeling when your kid uses too much toilet paper, and they flush, and there's that moment when everything's swirling around, and you hold your breath and hope that your equipment can prove itself worthy of the challenge, dispersing all matter, both organic and otherwise, and permanently transferring ownership to septic Siberia.

Or, there's the other possibility: rising tide levels result in catastrophic flooding and a biological event demanding a plunger, towels, Lysol and possibly a post-traumatic, Silkwood-type decontamination shower featuring three to four SOS Pads.

That's how I've been feeling this past week; Sorry for the crass analogy, but I'm waiting to see where all the swirling shit will end up.

I suppose it started last Friday. Mitt Romney, pandering to his fellow tightie whities at this year's Conservative Political Action Conference, boasted about successfully prohibiting, as governor of Massachusetts, out-of-state gay couples from entering his state to get married and then returning home.

"On my watch, we fought hard and prevented Massachusetts from becoming the Las Vegas of gay marriage," Romney blustered.

It's a good thing no one tossed him a freaking football at that point, because he would've spiked it and leaped into a front row of flabby Caucasians ill-prepared to support his robust frame.

Yeah, nothing can chill a soul to its core, nothing can rattle a society's foundation, like a couple of women driving up from Virginia, getting married, spending two nights at the Worcester Best Western...and then leaving the state.

That was enough for one flush right there. But as I reached for the metal plated handle, another presidential candidate's sweaty palm slapped my forearm from its destination.

On Tuesday, Governor Chris Gregoire signed Washington's same-sex marriage bill into law, making my home state the seventh to afford gay and lesbian couples full marital rights. It was a proud day to be a resident of Washington and one I hadn't imagined would happen so soon.

But before you could say, "I now pronounce you Stan and Mike," guess who swooped into the Evergreen State to douse my warm endorphin blanket with a ham tin full of gelatinous piety? None other than the candidate who won't go away, Rick Santorum.

The guy is like eczema in a brown sweater vest.

Remember him? He's the dude who stated that allowing two people of the same gender to marry would crack open a Pandora's Box of biblical proportion—soon, men would engage in legal bestiality and women would elope with...I don't know...huge vats of salsa.

The former Pennsylvania senator spent the day offering his support to a crowd of pastors and '"values voters"(which is code for "I hope no one ever finds out what's in my computer") toward repealing Washington's sparkly new law.

And by the way, if some guy wants to marry a farm animal, they should be allowed to, for the animal's sake. I grew up near rural south King County, and after bearing witness to some long-term pairings, one of the parties didn't get much out of the deal and should be entitled some form of compensation.

Having Rick Santorum in such close proximity caused me to reflexively pull the lever, desperately desiring the swirling, soily soup in my head to disappear with a cleansing whoosh.

It's looking like the circling mass may not be eradicated until November, however, when the Roto Rooter van pulls up and a guy named Obama steps out, pulls up his sleeves and opens his toolbox.

America's Pampered Poor: Why Should MItt Care?

I'd like to explore a term today, just a couple of words which have been bandied about the past couple of days:

Safety net.

On Tuesday evening, basking in his winner-take-all victory at the Florida presidential primary, Governor Mitt Romney informed CNN that his campaign had chosen to focus on America's middle class.

Okay, so far so good.

Then the lug nuts loosened. "I'm not concerned about the very poor," Romney quipped, "because there's a safety net in place for them." he also downplayed his campaign's emphasis on the very rich, citing, again, a safety net which buffers them as well.

The former Massachusetts governor later retracted the comments, stating that he "misspoke."

I'm not really sure what misspeaking is; maybe you can fill me in, Mittens.

Was it a profound misfiring of brain synapses which caused you to mispronounce each of the seven words, "I'm not concerned about the very poor" together? Were you actually trying to say "My yachts can burn without the hairy four?"

Oh, okay. Sorry, man. You were attempting to speak of the four bearded captains of the Romney luxury boat fleet, who bravely protect your seagoing vessels from left wing arsonists. Now I understand.

When you're forced to talk incessantly for months on end, it makes sense that your power of enunciation might suffer. My bad.

Seriously, you don't get a free pass on this one Romney. You may have retracted your statement due to overwhelming public outcry, but it doesn't mean you wouldn't pursue this very philosophy should you be elected commander-in-chief.

Let me get this straight—both extremely rich and extremely poor people have safety nets, but not the middle class.

Naturally, the highly wealthy own a safety net. It's constructed of dead presidents. If the aristocrat loses his grip on the trapeze handle, hundreds of men named Benjamin stand below to catch the falling blueblood and pat him on the tookus as he runs back up the ladder.

I'm not sure any other safety nets need to occupy that big top.

But how about the very poor—to what do these folks have access that my other middle class homies and I don't?

They may qualify for food stamps, but only if they possess less than $2000 in total assets. In 2010, the average American food stamp recipient received $133 per month, or $4.33 per day. Wow. Time to pass the Grey freaking Poupon with that kind of mad paper.

They may be entitled to welfare. Over one-third of our states have an income limit of less than fifty percent of the federal poverty level to qualify. That means a family of four can receive TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families) only if household income is less than $11,175.

Talk about pampered.

Oh, I almost forgot the healthcare safety net—the foremost coups de gras for the poor. Not only do these spoiled serfs enjoy medical attention provided by our nation's overburdened emergency rooms, often free of charge, they also enjoy the benefit of marathon waits and aerobic exercise to return to the shelters after the buses have stopped running for the night.

I can see what Mitt's talking about now, because the list just keeps going.

Let's not forget the critical and often free access to breast cancer screenings at Planned Parenthood, made possible largely by grants through the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation. What an indulgence.

But since Romney isn't focused on the poverty-stricken women who depend on Planned Parenthood, I'm sure he slept soundly last night...

In his narrow view, those safety nets are self-mending.

Listen up, candidates: How to turn this thing around.

"Everyone has a plan 'til they get punched in the mouth."
-Mike Tyson

That's one of my favorite lines ever.

It's so accurate, whether, as with Mr. Tyson, it literally refers to one of his long history of fallen tomato can opponents, or more figuratively referencing the combatants in our modern political arena.

While none of the presidential contenders would even consider going a couple of rounds in the ring, how much fun would it be to watch Gingrich sweating and gasping for air as he simultaneously attempts to punch Santorum and hide his quivering moobs?

While the candidates surely consider themselves above any type of physical fray, wouldn't it be great to see Perry and Romney go after each other at Madison Square Garden during halftime of a Knicks game?

I could see Perry dominating at the outset, but then Romney getting really pissed about the condition of his hair and windmilling his open-gloved hands in a climactic, yet ineffective rage.

Alas, I can only fantasize about such entertaining political exploits.

But now that Mr. Romney has opened a fairly sizable lead over the others and gained nearly enough momentum to propel his robber baron arse to the nomination, the also-rans had better restock their verbal quivers or forever stand down.

So, in these desperate days, exceptional circumstances require exceptional assistance and I'm here to offer just that to messieurs Paul, Perry, Santorum and Gingrich.

Congressman Paul, you've got the reputation of a well-prepared, mature orator, as well as a highly respected physician. So, next time you hear Mittens proclaim that "corporations are people, my friend," ask him where General Motors' scrotum is.

It'll throw him off. A lot.

Governor Perry, Mr. Rommey likes to attempt to relate to average folks, which you do, as well. So, next time he claims that "there were a couple of times I wondered whether I was going to get a pink slip," tell him "That's ridiculous. Y'all could get as many pink slips and blue teddies as y'all want. In fact, you could buy the entire Fredericks of goddamn Hollywood."

Snap.

Senator Santorum, if Governor Romney makes the mistake of again saying, "I like being able to fire people who provide service to me," respond with "That's where we differ, sir. Since I'm a highly repressed right wing Christian, I conceal my perversions by keeping all those who service me financially secure."

Moral high ground is what it's all about, no?

And finally, Speaker Gingrich, you've proven yourself to be quite adept at firing sharp verbal salvos, so you don't really need my assistance. But just in case, if Mitt again affirms that "President Obama's stimulus plan is one of the biggest peacetime spending binges in American history," remind him that the United States is certainly not at peace, but it will seem like it once there's a President Gingrich.

He'll be godsmacked by your badassedness.

You guys are welcome.