So I've got Mitt Romney here, and he's has graciously condescended to let us have a peak at his forthcoming concession speech. So without further ado, the man who would be king... Mitt Romney...
My fellow Americans (and by that I mean those who are at least middle income people making $250,000/year or more and not those sorry mooches just looking for a handout), I come before you today not saddened by your rejection of me, myself, I, Ann and our wonderful horse, Alpo (hey, he lost didn't he?), but proud of the 39.85% of you who actually stood up for the rights of wealthy white guys everywhere. Where else but America can a few really rich guys convince a whole bunch of low-income, mouth-breathing slobs to vote against their best interests, and for my right to pay less than 1% a year in taxes simply because the President is black and has a funny name.Speaking of the President (*chokes back a sob*), I guess I have to offer him some congratulations. After all, the 3rd largest landslide in US history deserves a mention. So here's your "attaBOY", Barry, now run along and fetch me my slippers. What's that, Barry? I'm sorry, I can't do that to myself. No, and neither can Clint. (*smirks knowingly at the crowd which laughs uproariously*) In all seriousness, good luck keeping those rich Israeli Jews, snobby English hooligans and the rest of the non-American world from falling flat on it's face now that I'm not there to keep them in line with my blundering American bluster and the rest of the Bush gang. I expect America to shortly become a third-world country or simply roll over and beg for forgiveness from Iran before surrendering to the French. Sorry to be the bearer of such bad news for you, Barry, but everyone knows you'll never be the leader that I am and until you can make the tough decisions, like whether to strap the family dog to the roof of the car so it doesn't mess up the fine leather upholstery, you never will be.
Let's see who else needs their ass kissed, Mitt style...
Oh yeah, Chris Christie, you fat bloated, egotistical toad, I was going to let you invest in some overseas ventures I'm working on. The money is going straight to a Cayman Islands' bank account so no taxes will ever be paid, but since your speech at the convention, I moved you down to 109th on a 100 slot list. You really should have said my name sooner. (*Mitt pantomimes grabbing Christie by the hair on the back of his head and smiles cruelly*) Say my name Chris... SAY MITT ROMNEY! (*the crowd falls silent*) What?!?!? You people can't take a joke? Good lord no wonder you all voted for me. This whole campaign has simply been so I can go on a speaking tour and ghostwrite a book and make another several million. After all if you'll pay that idiot Palin to spoon-feed you crap, I should be able to rake in some serious coin. I've been yanking your chain for 6 years and you dumbasses ate it up. (*the crowd starts to shuffle it's feet and a few scattered boos break out*) EL-OH-EL as they say on the intertubez, I'm just messing with you like my good buddy, Clint, did. (*Mitt throws his arm around an imaginary Clint Eastwood beside his podium and the crowd laughs and starts to clap*)
Yep, Clint had it right. He really gets the whole GOP thing. It's not about me and my millions of dollars. It's not even about policy and putting you peons back to work. It's always been about knocking the black guy out of the White House. OOOOOOPPPS! Guess I wasn't supposed to say that out loud. Well, who cares, I never have to look at any of you disgusting poor people ever again. Freaking bunch of moochers, riding my coattails all the way to the White House in the hopes I'll toss a couple of crumbs your way or maybe hire your dad to clean up some horse poop so he doesn't have to keep leeching off the government for his social security check. I really was hoping to repeal that healthcare reform, the insurance industry had promised me millions if I succeeded. I was going to buy another house on the California coast to tear down and erect a 150 foot statue of me laughing uproariously with the Koch Brothers as we simultaneously pee on a bunch of troops while burning cigars made from pages of the Koran. Guess I'll have to buy a dog to kick instead. If the ASPCA won't let me have one, I'll simply buy it and close it down.
Guess in closing I'd like to say, I really don't care what all of you think, I'm still rich and I don't have to answer to anyone. Being President would have been good for a laugh, but I'd have had to deal with all those poor folks and foreign leaders who honestly think that because they lead some piddling nation, like Germany, they deserve to be sitting in the same room with me. In short, fuck you all now someone get me a Scotch. (*Mitt throws his arm around imaginary Clint Eastwood once again and skips off the stage*)
