Last week was a not-so-very-good, kind-of-awful, is-it-over-yet week for Team Romney when it was discovered that apparently women don’t like “shoulders you can land a 737 on” preferring, instead, a penis you could hang a bath towel on. Then there was the Tie Seamus To The Roof problem which is a bit trickier to finesse but, like all good sitcoms, common sense no-nonsense Mom comes to the rescue:
Mitt and I love our dogs. Seamus was our first–an Irish setter. When I wasn’t at home, Mitt let him sleep on the bed. And usually when he was riding in the car, his head was out the window. Seamus lived to a ripe old age, basking in the affection of a large family.
Surprise, surprise, the media didn’t get the dog story right. Our dog Seamus rode in an ENCLOSED kennel, not in the open air. And he loved it. Every time he saw it, he jumped up on the tailgate, walked in, and lay down. It was just like the kennel he curled up in at home.
We are a dog family. Casey was our Bichon, McKenzie our Golden, and Marley our Weimaraner. Marley had 8 puppies, which Mitt delivered all night for her one summer.
When she died last year, she was in Mitt and our arms, and we all cried. Yes, we love our dogs.
Now horses, that’s my love too. Mitt rides them–I love them. But that’s another blog.
So there! It was just like the kennel he curled up in at home…only it was hurtling down the freeway at seventy-plus miles per hour strapped to the top of a Ford Ranch Wagon. And besides Mitt delivered puppies all night one time so SUCK ON THAT!!! BILL FRIST, YOU CAT MURDERING FREAK!
Later all of the puppies were sold to one Judith Nathan of New York City where the puppies lived happily ever after.
Meanwhile, MittManiacs or Mittsketeers or Mittiots or whatever the hell they are calling themselves this week, pass the Gauntlet of MittModerated comments to com”mitt”serate with MittMom.
It was God’s idea:
It feels sad to read the negativism towards America. Instead of looking on the positive sides towards people, they spread negativism in their ugliest form so someone deserving wont be able to win, so their crooks and wicked ways will move forward. but they will fail. When all is said and done, Governor Romney’s run in the presidency is not just by himself, nor of his ever supporting families and friends, but God Himself.
Hells Angels are just like big pooping Irish Setters:
To remark about some of the hoopla created. My God what are we going to do about the humans? The ones who spend thousands of dollars for the experience and call it exhilirating? Some do it without windshields. Some do it for thousands upon thousands of miles. They call it motorcycling, and it IS fun to be in the wind, etc. No big deal!!!
I’d hate to see what happens if it comes out that Mitt broke the speed limit or the boys didn’t wear their seat belts. Controversy over how a dog was safely (I assume he didn’t die along the way) transported on a family vacation 24 years ago has to be the most pathetic distraction in presidential campaign history. Shame on the media for indulging this non-issue.(my emphasis)
Yup. Noting quite knocks a wacky whimsical family anecdote off the rails like a “whoopsie” moment when the dogs kennel flies off the roof, takes a high speed tumble on the freeway only to be mercifully stopped and crushed by an eighteen wheeler hauling Alpo.
God is nothing if not ironic.