Esquire writer Charles P. Pierce writes a pitch perfect speech that, if Mittens had the brass to deliver, would vault him back into contention. It's satire, but like the best humor cuts to the bone and exposes the truth. It opens with
How'd you like it? You wanted me to be authentic and you got it, both barrels, gold-plated with a lovely mahogany stock, perfect for killing varmints. Put me on a podium in front of an auditorium full of mouthbreathers I wouldn't hire to park my car and I turn into an ice sculpture. But put me in a room with sentient piles of currency, and I can relax and explain the way the world works in the only language they understand, the only language that counts. I speak Money, bitches, and if you didn't learn it when you were young, there ain't no Rosetta Stone you can use to play catch-up now. We spoke Money at home. We spoke Money at prep school. Parlez-vous franc? Sprechen sie Deutschmark? You don't speak Money, you don't speak to me, because, well:
I'm Mitt Romney, bitches, and I'm all you got left.
Follow me below the 47% fleur de lis for choice excepts.
Please read the entire speech here as there are many gems that will make you laugh out loud. For example:
I mean, Jesus, you mean you people didn't notice? Back during the primaries, you didn't catch on to what I was saying? I offered to bet Rick Perry ten thousand clams, right there on stage. Bluffed him over the top because that tangled-tongued sodbuster knew that I could have bought his hometown of Drought Stricken Gulch, or whatever the hell it was, for half that amount. I bought Pawlenty out of the process before those hayshakers in Iowa had finished farting out the rest of their corn dogs from the state fair. Newt tried me on about the Bain stuff, but do you think I was even listening? In fact, do you think I listen to anyone? I don't listen to anyone who doesn't... speak... Money, and I don't have to, because, well:
I'm Mitt Romney, bitches, and I'm all you got left.
I believe that we need two functioning parties, and while I am gleeful that Rmoney has squandered his chance I'm worried about the future where one party is captive to the monied interests he represents.
So when Pierce writes
I'm the end product, baby. This is where your party's been heading for 30 years. Who do you think bankrolled Reagan? People who spoke Money, that's who. You put a party together made up of snakehandlers, and economic alchemists, and neocon grifters, and get a whole bunch of people like me, people who speak Money, to foot all the bills, and who do you think is going to end up on top? Sooner or later, you all have to pay the piper, and the piper is me. I am always the piper, because I always get paid, because, well:
I'm Mitt Romney, bitches, and I'm all you got left.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.