August 25, 2011
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Face it, people: In America today, the major difference between a campaign contribution and a bribe is five syllables.
One advantage to this smoky, shapeless strategy is it plays directly to the man’s strengths. The former governor of Massachusetts doesn’t have what you might call an actual, distinct personality. He’s more of a virgin canvas. A good-looking blank slate onto which any number of convictions and philosophies can be believably projected. He’s the coloring book and we voters the crayons. And no fighting over who gets to be burnt sienna.
Disregard the almanac. And the calendar. Forget whatever the meteorologist or the astrology charts or your next-door neighbor with the hair growing out of a mole shaped like the state of Delaware on his nose told you. The true wormhole opening to summer is not the upcoming solstice on Wednesday, June 20; it is, has been, and forever shall be the last Monday of May — Memorial Day.
A thousand rainbows of congratulations to Barack Obama for bursting out of his own personal policy closet and fabulously proclaiming he believes "same sex couples should be able to get married."
Since Gov. Romney has sewn up the nomination tighter than one of Chris Christie's old suits, the only remaining Republican election drama is which name the Bairn of Bain Capital intends to place on the bottom of his bumper sticker.
We are about to be buried under such a blizzard of polls, we'll be lucky to evade frostbite burns.
Remember way back when his own staffer said Mitt Romney had the convictions of an Etch-A-Sketch? Well, stand back, because as we speak, the former governor of Massachusetts is being flipped over and shaken so hard the fillings in the back teeth of his whole family are starting to rattle and cascade like some great crumbling Utah Butte.
Some small-minded pundits are guaranteed to grouchily opine this is neither the time nor the place to be re-circulating unfounded conspiracy theories.
Once again, the wacky wheel of destiny took a mighty spin and the big red pointer landed smack on the name of the next Great White Republican Hope –– Rick Santorum.
With the Emmys, Oscars and CMAs right around the corner, this might be the perfect opportunity to weigh in with the most consequential of them all: the 2012 Political Animal Awards. Note: No tuxes have been bruised in the creation of these awards.
It's been more exciting than a zip-line over crocodile-infested streams, watching the Republican reality TV show currently playing across the nation.
The obvious intention of Team Romney is to plant Mitt in the soft squishy loam as the sole candidate an ordinary person could expect to meet up with in the middle of the flood plains of normalcy.
Too bad you didn't know about comedian and writer Will Durst's interactive party game for those watching Tuesday night's State of The Union Address.
South Carolina is the last, best chance to jump on the Mittmeister and the whole B-Team is lacing up their steel-toed boots and pounding nails into their soles as we speak.
The mad, mud-tossing between Newt Gingrich and Mitt Romney, the last two Republicans still standing, is quickly ramping up to levels not seen since the Agincourt catapults.
Here we go with events that happened in the year of our Lord, 2011, that most lent themselves to mocking and scoffing and taunting. In amplish amounts.
Let's take a peek behind the scenes of GOP headquarters to listen in on the coaching strategy for the little game Republicans are currently playing called, "Anybody but Romney." Think "Whack-A-Mole" with media mallets.
Let me be among the first 40-foot, helium-filled balloons to kick-start our national parade of giving thanks.
You've heard all the buzz phrases: "Washington is not the answer, it is the problem." "The devil made both Washington and hell, but chooses to live in hell." "Washington is a cesspool." Sure, that's what they say, but once elected, politicians treat it like a hot tub.
Easier than duck fat in muffin tins to figure out why Americans are so darn freaked out and polarized these days. It's because we're afraid. Afraid we've lost our way. Afraid of not being No. 1. Afraid of what may be in store. Of all that we don't know. Because, face it, there's so much we don't know.
A full complement of Republican presidential candidates gathered for the battle royale at the Ronald Reagan Library in Seamy (Simi) Valley, Calif. And though he was only there in spirit, the Great Communicator could easily have supplied the power for the entire proceedings, had the networks harnessed him spinning in his grave like a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a power surge.
Anybody who plans on getting up close and personal with a Republican candidate in the near future might want to carry an oath-repelling umbrella, because pledges are raining down like frog parts after a methane gas explosion in the amphibian wing of an aquarium.
The Republican strategy for 2012 seems simple enough. It's a numbers game. They plan to flood the market. Set up an all-you can-eat candidate buffet. If you don't like the potential nominee in front of you, try the next steam table.
Congress and the president are having second thoughts about signing the debt-ceiling agreement; treating the deal like a dead horsefly floating in their cut-glass tumbler of 25-year-old Scotch.