Why do I hate thee, Willard Mitt Romney?
Is it your slippery good looks, your otherworldly perfect hair?
Is it your valedictory brainpower, your Harvard pedigree?
Is it, perish the thought, because you’re so damn Latter-Day Saintly?
Is it because you exchanged your bedrock beliefs for a shiny new set of family values in hopes of ingratiating yourself with the most reactionary elements of the Grand Old Party?
Is it your fabulous, silver-spoon-in-the-ass riches?
No, it’s none of the above, Mittney.
This excerpt from your white-flag speech, your recent concession to the rising McCain juggernaut, contains in embryo the essence of why I hate you:
“If I fight on in my campaign, all the way to the convention, I would forestall the launch of a national campaign and make it more likely that Senator Clinton or Obama would win. And in this time of war, I simply cannot let my campaign be a part of aiding a surrender to terror.”
I hate you because you’re a soulless charlatan, a veritable invertebrate whose penchant for pandering to the lowest common denominator knows no depths, however subterranean. Mittney, you are a weasel-faced ass, an ass-faced weasel, a reptilian neanderthal of the rankest order.
Your transparent, laughable, tin-eared pretense to being a long-suffering Red Sox fan was crime enough. And then you became Reason No. 1,001 why the world rejoiced in the Patriots’ fall from grace.
But now, this. You can’t even go to your political grave with a trace element of humanity, can you? No, as always, your inner lizard slithered to the surface and unleashed all the oily venom that courses icily through your alien veins.
I simply cannot let my campaign be a part of aiding a surrender to terror.
You are a douchebag, Mittney.
That’s why I hate you.