Mitt Romney, God of a Planet to be Named Later, is not going to release his tax returns. He is not gonna do it. So stop with all the "Release your taxes, Mitt" nonsense on the Twitterolamatron, because he ain't gonna do it.
He won't. And you can't make him.
You can't shame him into it. A person has to be CAPABLE of FEELING shame to BE shamed.
Is your dog ashamed of pooping in the yard? Of course not. Dogs are capable of shame, but pooping is not something that shames them. Call a crowd. Sell tickets. They don't care. You, on the other hand. Well, speaking for myself, I guess, I am still somewhat ashamed on the rare occasion I get caught pooping in the yard. (Never my own, for some reason.)
If Mitt and his wife, Princess Ann (not the name she'll be known by in the Celestial Kingdom, by the way... you get a secret name at your Endowment along with the special underwear which protect you from Jesus' flesh-and-blood brother Satan, and some yahoo whispers something into your navel, and you are forbidden to tell ANYONE what your ultra-secret name is [except for Mitt who she had to tell when their marriage was sealed because that is the name he will resurrect her by -- yup! He gets to decide if she goes with him to that planet] because that is how Elohim will know you are really you and not someone pretending to be you, and you don't get three guesses... you have to get it right the first time, or it's off to the low rent Terrestrial Kingdom or the ghetto-like Telestial Kingdom for you...)
What was I going on about? Oh, yeah.
If Mitt (who also has a secret name -- I think it's "Scott") were capable of shame, would he even be running for president?
This is a man who tied a fucking dog to the top of a fucking car and drove for five-fucking-hundred miles, three hundred of which after he soaked the poor animal with a hose for crapping all over the car and then drove in the cold air until the insane animal spent the rest of his years trying to escape. (Seamus didn't have a secret name. Poor beast.)
This is a man who cursed at a park ranger and got busted for disturbing the peace because he wanted to put his boat in the water someplace where boats are not supposed to be put into the water, but you do NOT tell a Mormon Bishop what to do! No sir!
This is a man who has done something so horrible, so despicable, so otherworldly BAD with his money that he willingly, gladly, LAUGHINGLY accepts your scorn and derision rather than release his taxes.
In fact, I would bet you MONEY! Actual MONEY! If Harry Reid were to call a press conference on Monday and tell America that it was the resurrected spirit of Brigham Fucking YOUNG who TOLD Reid Romney lied about his taxes, Romney would smirk, shrug his shoulders, and say, "Who you gonna believe? Me or a ghost?"
So no. Mitt Romney is not going to release his tax returns. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not next month. Not never.
He knows good and goddamn well that whatever those tax returns show, the one thing he can never admit to is holding out on the fellas back in Salt Lake City. If the accountants with the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles ever got wind that Mitt and Princess Ann (who will be Mitt's goddess with whom he will have eternal sex -- it's only heaven for men, you see -- with Mitt (Scott?) on their own planetso they can pump out spirit babies to populate their own universe, just like Elohim did with our universe), they would yank Mitt's Temple Worthiness. His Sealed Marriage would probably go UN-sealed (meaning Rafalca -- whose spirit name is "Horsie!" -- would get to the Celestial Kingdom before Mitt or Ann).
Mitt knows he can not risk not having his own planet and eternal sex with Ann.
(Hold up. I threw up a little in my mouth just then.)
Your Earthly Presidency is a nice little gee gaw and all that. But being GOD on your OWN PLANET? Just like Elohim on the planet closest to Kolob? (Ever wonder how they know the star's name is Kolob but then never mention the name of the planet?)
No way, dude. Ain't gonna happen.
Ain't gonna happen.
Ain't gonna happen!
Now. Count the brown people in this video and sing along.
If You Could Hie to Kolob, 284 – William W. Phelps
1. If you could hie to Kolob In the twinkling of an eye,
And then continue onward With that same speed to fly,
Do you think that you could ever, Through all eternity,
Find out the generation Where Gods began to be?
2. Or see the grand beginning, Where space did not extend?
Or view the last creation, Where Gods and matter end?
Me thinks the Spirit whispers, “No man has found ‘pure space,’
Nor seen the outside curtains, Where nothing has a place.”
3. The works of God continue, And worlds and lives abound;
Improvement and progression Have one eternal round.
There is no end to matter; There is no end to space;
There is no end to spirit; There is no end to race.
4. There is no end to virtue; There is no end to might;
There is no end to wisdom; There is no end to light.
There is no end to union; There is no end to youth;
There is no end to priesthood; There is no end to truth.
5. There is no end to glory; There is no end to love;
There is no end to being; There is no death above.
There is no end to glory; There is no end to love;
There is no end to being; There is no death above.