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Apologizing for America, and Why

The gangly, draft-dodging 20-year old.

It’s fitting, really, that Mitt Romney’s first significant experience in the Old World involved riding a bicycle, since his latest seems to require a helmet, with or without the bike.  One thing we do know is that a gangly, draft-dodging 20-year old yammering about Golden Tablets and whatnot is considerably less newsworthy (and funny) than a presidential candidate (!) making an even bigger ass of himself, once  the charm of youthful earnestness has long since been so utterly trampled under the stomping hooves of arrogant, plutocratic cluelessness.  If he had any sense, Romney would try one of two things: A) Get his act together, or B) Make the trip onto a comedy tour, before it’s too late.

Let’s go with B,  for the moment.  Obviously, when you’ve just mangled 1000 years of Britain’s history by reverently referring to her hated onetime Saxon conquerors as beloved family and said the UK government had blown security at the Olympics before meeting a single dignitary, it’s time to bring on the jokes.   After all, when press comments like this one spring up like mushrooms all over England’s “green, unpleasant land,”   on the day of your arrival, you’d better have a plan B:  (from the Guardian)

From criticising the biggest sporting event Britain has held in over 40 years, to “looking out of the backside of 10 Downing Street”, Mitt Romney‘s first foreign trip of his presidential candidacy hasn’t gone quite as well as he might have hoped. As the former Massachusetts governor continues to gaffe his way across London, here’s a round-up of Romney’s red-facers. So far.

The article goes on to amply demonstrate how much Romney is ignoring my sage advice, to his considerable detriment.  “So far?”  That doesn’t sound to me like winning the news cycle, Mitt.  You see, if you say such forehead-slappingly stupid things all the time, you just have to make it look like you meant to do that, as any kid who’s taken an inconveniently public spill on a skateboard could (patiently) explain to you, if only you’d listen.  (Seems unlikely, since he evidently doesn’t know “backside” in Britain and elsewhere, means “ass.”  I guess they wear that magic underwear pretty tight…)

Before the day was quite over, as those Brits are fond of saying, Romney had gone on to point out that he wouldn’t be bothering to watch his wife’s horse at the f*cking Olympics taking place across town, and later added that he’d met with the secretive head of MI6, when it would have been far smarter to say, “You know, I finally got to meet some Irish people when they were cleaning my room…  And guess what? They have more grandchildren than I do!”  The crowd roars.  Followed by, “It’s nice to see that since Di and Kate entered the picture; you folks might finally get a handle on those bad jawlines!” And as a closer,  “Ann has a couple of couches that look just like what the Queen is wearing tonight.”

In Israel, he could warm up the crowd by saying, “I know a lot of department store owners, and Ann’s jewelers and furriers are some of her best friends.”  A conspiratorial little wink, and then, “And the way you guys do taxes?  If I tell you how good, I’d have to kill you.”   After an assured crowd-pleaser like that, why not turn momentarily solemn, and say, “I know you people face a lot of searing dilemmas in these troubled times….  like pork on sale.”  Then, as people start nervously shifting in their seats, he could bring the house down by saying, “I finally got to meet some Palestinian people when they were cleaning my room….  And guess what?  They have more grandmothers than I do!”

On to Poland:  “You know, I haven’t seen one light bulb that wasn’t screwed in correctly since I got here; did you guys bring in the Russians or something?”

Call me, Mitt.  I can help.

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