Wednesday, November 7, 2012

An open letter

Dear Mr. Romney,

I voted.  I voted for you.  I didn't want to.  I held my nose and did it anyway.  Because I love my country, and even a month's extension before it rushes off the fiscal cliff is time for someone who knows what the fuck they're doing to save it.

Actually, scratch that.  I didn't vote for you.  I voted against Obama, and for the hope of getting that classless piece of shit out of the White House.

Now?

Go away.  You've lost.  Twice.  First, in the primaries against a man with less personality than store-bought white bread--who lost the general election and went back to work as a senator, and has kept his head down, since.  Now, you've lost the general election against a fucking communist.

So, go away.  Get out of politics, since you don't have a senate seat, or a house seat.  Disappear.  You've fucked up our chances to slow down the wreck.

Yesterday, Glenn Beck boasted that you were a gentleman, one that had run a clean campaign. 

Bull.  Shit. 

Your campaign stabbed someone in the back, early in the race, that not only could  have beat Obama, but probably would have.  That that person would have done his best to lay on the brakes, not just slow down the acceleration.  He has built a business from the ground up, and has not served as a politician. 

We also would have seen fewer accusations of racism against the candidate running against the President.  There couldn't have been.  He was black.  What we would have seen would have been black-on-black racism from someone lighter than a paper bag against someone who was actually black, not a caricature of someone who's been dead for a month, by the color of their skin, lips and fingernails: cries of oreo, Uncle Tom, and house nigger.

Best of all, there wouldn't have been such a monolithic black vote.    That race was close enough that that might have kicked the freeloading nigger out of public housing. 

Thanks, ever so much, for the shit sandwich you had a hand in making sure was forced down our throats. 

Go to hell, you smug son of a bitch.

Sincerely,

A bitter clinger to God, guns, and my family

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