Monday, July 16, 2012

Back in Mitt's Mind

Of all the countries on earth, the trickiest one in which to practice the art of public relations must be North Korea. Here's Kim Jung-un, third in the Kim line of beloved dictators, whose name and face now seem to pop up everywhere. But what we, and the feckless Koreans, don't know about him is pretty surprising. How old is he? What's his education? Is he married? And just who is that young woman who keeps turning up at his side in these public appearances? His sister? His date? Could we know her name, please? So far, all we do know is that one of the old military bigshots has been relieved of his duties over the weekend because of "health problems". Will he be coming back when he feels better? Ah, who wants to know?

Back in February, we explored all the things that Mitt Romney night have been thinking as he received the presidential endorsement of Donald Trump. By means that cannot be fully explained, we have access again to Mitt's mind. This time, he's standing before the annual convention of the NAACP, being booed. His lips do not move from the frozen smile we've come to appreciate, but his mind is moving a mile a minute:

"Yes! Oh, I'm loving this. I'm way up the learning curve from these folks, and most of them will NEVER realize it. And the ones who do? There are too few to make any difference. I'm a winner today, baby.
Here's why. Just showing up at this event shows that I have some guts, because everyone knows the whole organization is in the bag for Obama. He got 95% of their vote last time around, and nothing I can say is gonna change that. Heck, Kerry got 90%, and he's less black than I am. So they can boo their heads off at me and it won't make any difference.
But here's what I know that they don't. I know who the real audience is. It's sure not the three or so people I have a chance to win over here. But think about some of the places we lost four years ago. Some of them are bumper to bumper with pickup-drivin', gun-packin', beard-growin', Bocephus-listenin' (What, you didn't know I knew who that is?), tobacco-chewin', Obama-hatin' rednecks that our party has come to depend on. Being who I am and where I come from, I can't even pretend to be much like those fine folks, and don't think they don't know it. But if you can't be equal pals with someone, then having the same enemy as they do is almost as good. Anyway, there are thousands of them for every potential black vote that might fall my way by accident, and so I have to herd all our yokels into the "GOP is OK" Corral before they start thinking about stampeding off to Ron Paul or some other far right yahoo who's more likely to get elected president of Fox News than the USA.
To tell the truth, I only wish they would let me have it a little louder. I made it a point to use terms they would hate, like "Obamacare" and "Kitchen Cabinet". I just wish I could remember the name of the black gardener we had back in Boston who I told the boys they could talk to as long as he kept workin'. Well, maybe that's overdoing it just a little, but hey, you homies, just keep howlin'. I'll make sure the cameras keep rolling.   


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