I've always liked politics and was excited to finally get the chance to actually vote. My first vote was for Milhouse in 1972. I've spent the past 40 years trying to right my wrong. I do not know what possessed me to do such a foolish thing. Despite my draft notice and my steady income of $163 a month thanks to Uncle Sam, I still pulled the lever for my man Dick.
I blame it on my parents and Governor John Chafee (R-RI). He helped bail my father and me out of a jam when we were caught smuggling christmas trees out of Maine. It's a long story and in our defense, we weren't aware that we needed a one dollar permit to "export" trees in 1968; in a pickup truck that was grossly overweight due to the freezing rain that'd fallen all night. Pulled over at the Maine truck scales it was all over for two hicks from Pt. Judith, RI. Like the monkey that can't get his hand out of the jar without dropping the cookie, we didn't want to leave any trees behind. Trees were a huge source of income for me and I'd just forked over $1.35 for each bundle of christmas joy, a bundle containing 2-7 trees. We didn't have the cash to pay the fines so Dad called a family friend who called someone else and eventually, Maine's Governor called the State police at the scale. The officer's eyes got bigger and bigger and after the call ended asked us "who the f**k do you know that'd get the Governor to call here. On a Sunday no less." We acted like it happened all the time. Later we learned that Mr. Chafee had graciously helped us out. He was a good Republican. For the next year I had the only 1963 International pickup truck in RI that was registered to carry more weight than a dump truck. That my friends, is a superlative not easily bested!
So while I'd never vote for the turd, I got to thinking just how much W. Mitt Romney and me have in common. Details after Mitt's orange EEG.
Mitt goes by his middle name; Willard Mitt Romney.
My mother, hoping I'd be a doctor, named me Thomas Bradford **. She always pictured the nameplate on my office door: T Bradford **. My partner calls me T. Bradford. I did not become a doctor. This was the first in a long series of disappointments for my parents.
Mitt and Ann ate tuna and pasta when first married. It was a tough time.
Ms. and me eat lots of pasta and tuna. Times are tough.
Mitt and Ann survived their early years by selling off stock. They have lots of stocks to sell.
My partner and me have liquidated my 401k to survive. There is nothing left to sell.
Mitt and Ann may have tax issues.
I have tax issues. In 2010 I failed to declare all my early 401k withdrawals as I didn't have the $$ to pay the taxes. The IRS has given me until October 4 to pay up. We don't have the cash and the IRS won't set up a payment plan because our payments would be to small. They say they'll put a lien on our bank accounts (good luck with that, they're pretty empty), so we're trying to move to a cash system. Not as simple as you'd think!
Mitt likes his many houses.
We're hoping to find a way to keep ours.
Mitt keeps money in offshore accounts.
I have an account in Canada. I opened it in 1981 when I was planning to have a fishing boat built there. It has $10 in it. I just like the idea of a bank account in Canada. It pays no interest.
Mitt wants an elevator for his garage, to make moving his many Cadillacs easy.
My 1987 VW and our Toyota Yaris just fit in our driveway.
Mitt doesn't want to leave any money for his grandchildren.
We had to stop our $50 a month contribution into the grandkids college fund.
Mitt likes to shop at Costco.
We like to also. But we have to in order to stretch our food budget.
Mitt has been unemployed for the past three years.
Me too.
Mitt hates takers.
I wasn't eligible for unemployment insurance.
Mitt turns down $30 million dollar a year jobs.
I feel like I've been turned down 30 million times.
Mitt is a Dick
This is where we differ.