In a display of a deeply imbedded atavism, not to mention a palpable fear of losing all that they have not worked hard for, the Republican Party's stale offering for President of these United States, from out of the bush, the former bane of the workingman, his high and his mighty, to himself twice-endeared, Myth Romney is a cruel joke being played on an embattled and embittered middle-class. To the consternation of his Party's tea-swilling base this choice of the lesser of a dozen evils was grudgingly granted his candidacy with a reactionary stiff-upper-lip formerly suitable only for senescent, if not fossilized, British lions.
However, now that this crimson-colored, flick-tongued lyin' king has demonstrated his latest moves (somewhat reminiscent, actually, of the Soweto Shuffle) to at least 47% of the 99% that had already feared his bite more than his bark, any remaining Myth Romney acolytes may be switching to coffee come November. To merely call him out as a duplicitous charlatan capable of a callous casuistry not seen or heard since Marx (both Groucho and Karl) is not strong enough hortatory. This louche bean counter must not be allowed in a place where 2 plus 2 does not equal 4.