WaPo Plays Waaahmbulance Chaser For Mitt

Oh, cry me a river. Or excuse me while I gag. Philip Rucker at the Washington Post has gone completely around the bend in an effort to drum up some sympathy for poor, lost Mitt Romney. Really, what reality is this? Mitt Romney looks out the

Mitt Romney
Oh, cry me a river. Or excuse me while I gag. Philip Rucker at the Washington Post has gone completely around the bend in an effort to drum up some sympathy for poor, lost Mitt Romney. Really, what reality is this?

Mitt Romney looks out the windows of his beach house here in La Jolla, a moneyed and pristine enclave of San Diego, at noisy construction workers fixing up his next-door neighbor’s home, sending regular updates on the renovation. He devours news from 2,600 miles away in Washington about the “fiscal cliff” negotiations, shaking his head and wondering what if.

Gone are the minute-by-minute schedules and the swarm of Secret Service agents. There’s no aide to make his peanut-butter-and-honey sandwiches. Romney hangs around the house, sometimes alone, pecking away at his iPad and e-mailing his CEO buddies who have been swooping in and out of La Jolla to visit. He wrote to one who’s having a liver transplant soon: “I’ll change your bedpan, take you back and forth to treatment.”

It’s not what Romney imagined he would be doing as the new year approaches.

Dawwww, poor Mittens. Here are some practical suggestions to cheer him up.

  • Get out of that house and find a billionaire to play billiards with.
  • Play musical cars with the car elevator.
  • Hire someone to make those peanut butter and honey sandwiches.
  • Tell Ann to buck up, we know she's the bitter one.

And indeed, Ann seems to be having the most trouble coming to grips with everything:

By all accounts, the past month has been most difficult on Romney’s wife, Ann, who friends said believed up until the end that ascending to the White House was their destiny. They said she has been crying in private and trying to get back to riding her horses.

Romney has been keeping in shape with bike rides around La Jolla, past the bistros and boutiques that hug the rugged coastline. The son of Detroit — who boasted of the Cadillacs he owned as a sign of support for the U.S. auto industry during the campaign — was spotted driving a new black Audi Q7, a luxury sport-utility vehicle manufactured in Slovakia.

This article is a complete waste of time but for that one bolded sentence. Here's a memo to anyone running for office in this country: Never assume you're entitled to it. Never. Not now, not ever. You aren't granted the right to govern this country; you earn it. We felt that entitlement in our bones, in our very core.

Not to be left out, the AP concern trolls over the "leadership void" left by his withdrawal from party "leadership." Because he provided so much of that.

Everything in this article just confirms that our instincts were exactly right. There was never a time where the Romneys gave a damn about us, the people. It was all about destiny.

Schadenfreude is so sweet and juicy. Enjoy your bed, Mitt and Ann, because you two made it.

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