From time to time, I wish I believed in an afterlife. This is one of those times. I would love to believe that somewhere, in some high dimension of which we know nothing, Seamus the dog could look upon Mitt Romney and think, “yeah, payback for the top the car you crazed, cold-hearted, monkey-minded excuse for a mammal.” You see, in the last forty-eight hours or so, Mittens lost the election. I think that in the end, this will be that moment back in 2008 when America could breathe a sigh of relief that Sarah Palin wasn’t going to be an old man’s heartbeat away from the most stressful job ever. When Team Romney emailed a press release saying that President Obama sympathized with people who had attacked our embassy, while the attack was going on, in order to score political points, they showed their commitment to Machiavellian tactics knows no outer boundary.
Make political hay out of the deaths of Americans overseas? Sure, the POTUS is within two points in Virginia, if it could pick up another eighth of a point why not? Violate the rule that politics stops at the water’s edge? Well, if it makes the conservative commentariat stop saying we’re not hitting hard enough, that seems a price worth paying. If you really want to close that deal, you’ll do anything to make it happen. That’s how you win. It doesn’t matter that these are things that are just not done because you have an agenda.
Seamus could have told us this. Off in the canine equivalent of Valhalla, I’m sure that he’d be gnawing on the bone of something big and cow like, nodding his head and thinking, “he put me on the top of the car instead of the luggage. Then, after I’d completely voided my bowels, he put me back on top of the car. What the hell do you think the monkey words, ’scared shitless’ mean? Thank you, oh so very much, Great Monkey. Hosed down or not, cleaning your own shit off of you isn’t tasty. May you try it with your tongue someday.”
It’s another of those things that is in the category of just not done. Now, I don’t know whether it is illegal to put a dog on top of a car in a carrier in all fifty states or not. Legal or not, it’s one of those things that isn’t done. Favor the luggage over the dog? Sure, it solves the conservation of space problem but it does so in a singularly ruthless way. Unless the Romney boys were unusually cold-hearted kids, I doubt they were particularly happy about the matter. I want to believe that Ann Romney wasn’t enthused about it. So here’s a man who puts the dog on top of the car, sees that the dog has completely soiled itself in terror, hoses the dog off, and over the likely objection of his wife and sons puts the dog back on top of the car because that was his solution.
Romney likely would have been the perfect leader for the Galactic Empire. You can see him happily give the order to fire, err, blow up the planet Alderan. The man is nothing if he isn’t robotic and ruthless.
Up to this point, one could oppose a Mitt Romney candidacy because of differences of policy or because the GOP has gone insane. One could hope that he isn’t in a position to govern because his party isn’t capable of governing at present. The Tea Party on all the levers of power? Of such things are nightmares made and historical tomes written explaining how things went catastrophically wrong. These were all good reasons to oppose a Romney presidency. One could hold that position without saying that he did not deserve to be President and was entirely unworthy of either the trust or dignity of it.
He proved both. Consider that all he had to do was either nothing or make the perfunctory and customary statement expressing outrage at the attacks and condolences for the bereaved. He had the chance to show he was human and not the product of a particularly wild night in which a member of the Borg and a Ferengi got their freak on and he was the blessed and unintended result. He had the opportunity to actually look presidential. Instead he went at it with the same kind of ruthless efficiency at problem solving that allows someone to buy up a company, shuck it like an ear of corn, and then toss the remains over his shoulders, employees and all, while talking sagely about ‘creative destruction’. It’s perfectly legal to do such things. It doesn’t really seem like being a ‘job creator’, though. More like job terminator. Destroying jobs may also be one of those things that just isn’t done. The man who can make such heartless decisions with a smile on his face, is not a man who is going to sympathize the next time a storm destroys some city on the Gulf Coast. The man who makes such rash decisions is not someone who should have the ability to order bombs to be dropped on inhabited places.
The way we elect our President is cruel. It is long and it is grueling but it does show the citizenry something we desperately need to know; how does this person make decisions when the heat is on? What kinds of decisions do they make? Seamus the Dog could tell us, from whatever ethereal zone he now calls home, that Mittens is a decisive man who doesn’t quite grasp that you have to take into account how actions might have negative effects on others. He can put his feelings to one side and figure out what has to be done and then make it happen. Therein lies the problem. I would love to think that somewhere, Seamus the dog was wagging his tail and thinking, “Good. Monkey was undone by his own heartlessness.”
Kind of a pity there isn’t an afterlife.