I opened my mailbox, and there it was, lying flat: A 10.5 x 12 dark blue mailer with the words "Lift Here To Open" imprinted on the bottom of the flap, the initial caps signaling with the clarity of a lighthouse beam that Something Very Important lay enclosed within. What could it be, I wondered.
I turned the envelope over. There it was, the return address:
Romney for President, Inc. [sic]
P.O. Box 149756
Boston, MA 02114-9756
and the words "Do Not Bend/Photo Enclosed"
I faced an instant dilemma: Do I open the envelope now? Do I wait until after dessert? Hell, do I wait until Christmas?
In the end, my curiosity got the better of me and I demonstrated the patience of Rush Limbaugh with a fistful of oxycontin and eagerly opened the envelope. The contents did not disappoint.
First, the photograph.
Resplendent in dress jeans, gray suede jacket, and checked open-collar shirt, hands behind his back. Der Mittster gazes thoughtfully into the distance. Behind him is a barn with a small American flag on its side, dwarfed by the presence of Himself. (On closer scrutiny, the flag actually appears to be suspended in mid-air, the result of a campaign functionary's diligence and not the simple patriotic expression of an iconic farmer. But perhaps I quibble.)
Of more interest is the angle of the photograph. It's shot from slightly below crotch level, angled up to give Der Mittster an air of dominance. Indeed, it occurred to me that the photographer was a stand-in -- more accurately, a kneel-in -- for Der Mittster's constituents.
Including me, apparently.
I shuddered and gagged and looked at the picture again. On first glance, I hadn't noticed the smirk on his face. But I sure saw it now.
I laid the photo aside and began reading the accompanying letter to "a fellow conservative":
"Where do you stand?"
"Stand?" I thought to myself.
Well, here's where Mitt Romney, in stark contrast to Barack Obama, stands:
"I stand for freedom and opportunity and hope."
Then, with sledgehammer prose:
"I believe in America."
Der Mittster then hijacked his father's humble origins, neglecting to mention that at one point the family of Romney pere depended on federal assistance for survival. Wouldn't want that to get out: It would kill him with the right.
"...the lessons I learned...land of opportunity...uniquely American values..." blah blah blah.
And then, in the lower right-hand corner of the page, almost unnoticeable to the undiscerning eye, there it was. Der Mittster's Real Plan For America:
"Over, please..."
I looked at those words. I looked back at the picture, at that smirking visage waiting for the next in line. I looked at the words again.
I believe I'll pass.