I Love Everyone Who Votes for Me

Mitt Romney has something to say to the people of the great state of Michigan:

I love trees.  I love cars.  I love driving my car up a tree, planting a tree in a car, and cars that grow on trees.  I love pizza and small children.  I love sandwiches, babies, and baby sandwiches.  I love smiling.  I love mirrors and cameras.  I love dead presidents.  I love strangers who sign checks.  I love people and corporations–whoops!  How could I forget?  People are corporations–I mean, corporations are people.  I love my wife–I mean, my corporation.  With her cooperation, I’ve managed to build a family.  I love families.  I love my grandmother and everybody’s grandmother and the Grand Canyon.  Isn’t that grand?

You know what I also love?  I love changing my mind.  I love having immovable hair.  I love Donald Trump.  I love his tan, and his hair.  I love being a Mormon.  I even love morons.  Please vote for me.

But I don’t love Obama.  Don’t get me wrong–I love Predator drones.  The great state of Ronald Reagan said he would never attack another Republican, and he managed to win the presidency twice without even having to steal either election (instead of stealing both, like Dubya–I love you, George).  The only problem is that I love slagging my fellow Republicans.  I love making fun of Rick Santorum’s silly sweaters.  Who is he–Richie Cunningham?  I love “Happy Days.”  And I love happy days.  I love happiness.

I love Newt Gingrich’s big belly.  When was the last time we had a fat president?  Grover Cleveland?  William Howard Taft?  I love fat people.  Most Americans are fat, so I have to.  I love shaking hands. I love washing my hands too.  I love my skin.  I take good care of it, and so should you by voting for me.

I love Rick Perry’s George W. Bush impersonation.  If I close my eyes, I can’t tell them apart; in fact, I can’t even do it with my eyes open.  I love opening and closing my eyes repeatedly; I love blinking.  I love platitudes.  I love giving ephemeral speeches to crowds of people, many of whom are probably wondering why they came.  I love private jets.

I love strapping my dog to the roof of my car while I’m playing in my treehouse with Bart Simpson.  I love “The Simpsons,” except for O. J.  But please don’t tell him I said that.  I wouldn’t want him to chop my head off when he gets out of prison.  I love my head.  I love prisons, as long as the only people in them are drug addicts and small-time crooks instead of prestigious white collar criminals like the donors to my Super-PAC.

I love Mexicans.  I love wearing a sombrero on the go-cart track.  I love wearing a poncho on a rainy day.  I love talking on my cell phone.  I don’t love dropping it in the toilet though.  Have you ever done that?  Please understand, I love toilets.  I love bidets.  I love having and being a clean asshole. I didn’t mean to say that.  I love being self-deprecating if it will make more people like and remember me long enough to vote for me before they wake up and say, “Oh, my God!  How could I have voted for Romney?”

I love wiping my ass with laundered money.  I don’t love cocaine, even though I’ve heard it’s on most money.

I love Michelle Bachmann and Sarah Palin, even though I can’t tell them apart.  I love the way Sarah likes to shoot wolves from helicopters.  I love helicopters and the wolves who love them.  I love the Statue of Liberty, especially her armpit.  I love my teeth.

I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to go love some other things somewhere else.

Thank you for loving me.  I love all of you more than you can either believe or realize.  I know you think I’m pulling your leg–mind, I love your leg–but I’m not.  Do you think I can reach your leg from way up here on the stage?  Please don’t use your leg to kick me.  I love kicking a soccer ball to my son, or a football, but I don’t love getting a hammy or dislocating my knee.

Anyway, you get the idea.  Please don’t vote for Rick Santorum.  A vote for him is a vote for Satan.  Go with the lesser of two evils (okay, I know there are still more than two, but you know what I mean).  I love the White House and I want to live there for the rest of my life.

Most of all, I love being white.  Isn’t it time America had a white president?

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