Reading Mitt’s Mind

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Writes Charles Pierce in Esquire (NB: bad language):

I’m Mitt Romney, bitches, and I’m all you got left.

Look at me up here in one of my three primary residences, zipping around Lake You Can’t Afford It in my jet-ski with just enough chest hair showing, and gathering my incredibly beautiful, incredibly wonderful, incredibly wealthy family around me to celebate the Fourth Of July the way all Americans do, except with better cars. It’s almost hard to believe up here that I actually had to go all around the country to buy this nomination. I could’ve closed the deal from my hammock here. No, though, I was willing to go out and meet some of those people. And now, I’m back in the hammock anyway and,

I’m Mitt Romney, bitches, and I’m all you got left.

Stop sweating me, okay? It’s time for my nap. Tell Kristol to shut up or I’ll look under the lawn chairs until I find enough loose change to buy that little magazine of his and sell it to the publisher of Biker Mamas for a 200-percent profit. Let Kristol go cover Bike Week in Laconia next summer if he wants to run his yap. And Murdoch? He doesn’t like me? Tell you what: How about I get in there and revoke that tin citizenship medal that he’s got and let him go back to selling titty magazines to sheep farmers in Queensland. He’s over here because people like me allow him to be over here. Goddamn immigrant. I hope the senile old fool is tapping my phone, because I won’t have to shout at him that,

I’m Mitt Romney, bitches, and I’m all you got left.

Read the rest. (Thanks to DataChas)

1:21 pm on July 8, 2012