mitt romney is a jerk

Town Hall Brawl

“You are being so rude!”

“You are such a LIAR!”

“I can’t believe you thought you could get away with that!”

“Not fair! The moderator is taking your side!”

“Show me your binder full of women.”

“Oh grow up.”

If I thought the first debate brought out the worst in Mini-Mitt and Mini-Barry, I was sorely mistaken. They were screaming at each other and insulting each other the whole time. Barry couldn’t stand how rude the real Mitt was acting, and Mini-Mitt was mad at how much the real Obama was hammering his real life counterpart.

Finally, it came to a head.

“That’s it, Barry! This ends now!” Mitt screamed after Barry replayed the part of the debate where Candy Crowley corrected Mitt over and over. He pulled out a sword and attacked Barry…who also somehow had a sword handy.

“You’ll never defeat me, Barry!” Mitt yelled as their swords clashed.

“Are those lightsabers?” my son asked.

“I think they’re glow sticks,” I responded. With the glow sticks it did look like a low budget lightsaber battle, though.

“If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine,” Mini-Barry said.

“That’s it. I call no Star Wars refs,” Mini-Mitt said.

“Fine.”

They kept battling, which was actually more entertaining than the actual debate. Mitt seemed determined, but you could tell his strength was waning.

"Everyone knows I won that debate, Mitt,” Barry sneered. “You need to just let it go!”

“No! I have a 5-point plan!” Mitt countered. “I’ll never give in!”

Barry had had enough. He kicked Mitt down and pinned him with his sword.

“It ends here, Mitt,” he whispered disturbingly. “My name is Barack Obama, and I approve this beheading.”

“Dude, stop!” I yelled. “Are you nuts? You can’t actually kill him!”

“Why not?”

“First of all, that’s a glow stick. It won’t cut through anything,” I explained. “Secondly, he’s the main attraction to my blog! I need him!”

“He’s too dangerous to be left alive!” Barry plagiarized.

“I said no Star Wars quotes!” Mitt whimpered from under the sword.

“You…you’re right. This isn’t like me,” Barry smoldered. “It’s this election. It…it does things to a man…”

“…or a dollar claw machine toy…”

“…I…I’m sorry, Mitt. I’ll never let my stress and frustration cause me to do that again.”

“Thank you, Barry,” Mitt said. “I’m sorry too. We shouldn’t let politics turn us into monsters. You’re a good man.”

“As are you, Mitt.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” I said. “Not to say your little sword fight wasn’t cute ‘cos it was.”

Barry left the room to do some thinking. Mitt stayed in the living room.

“Pfft. Pansy,” Mitt grumbled.

“What?” I said.

“If the tables had been turned I totally would have finished him off.”

  • Tumblr: *hates a politician*
  • Politician: *says something everyone can agree with so that you'll like them*
  • Tumblr: 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit
Guantanamo Box

So, you may have heard about Mitt Romney’s secretly recorded comments about 47 percent of Americans being mooches and they’re Obama’s voters, right? If not, Google it. Seriously, the real Mitt is a dirtbag. His comments just prove that all of the jokes we make about him being out of touch and having such disdain for the average American are true.

Anyway, the word got out around here too, and the reaction was not particularly nice. Mini-Mitt is in a lot of hot water now. I came into the kitchen because I heard crying…and saw this…

That’s Mitt in there.

“Uh, Mr. President, what are you doing to Mitt?” I asked.

“I’ve decided to lock him up for his hate speech against Americans.”

“Big Stupid, is that you? Help me! I’m being detained without trial! I know my rights! I know my rights!” Mitt wailed.

“Why are the Halo toys there?” I asked.

“As commander-in-chief, I asked these fine soldiers to guard the prisoner.”

(Are you reading this in Obama’s voice? Because as I type it I hear it in Obama’s voice.)

I contemplated asking if the Halo figures were alive too, but I figured it’d be best if I just left it alone.

“Is this Guantanamo? Am I victim of the Patriot Act?” Mitt cried.

“Settle down, you’re in a storage crate in the kitchen,” I said.

“Nobody knows, the trouble I’ve seen…” Mitt sang.

“You cut that out,” Mini-Barry snapped. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

“I don’t think you can keep him imprisoned for what he said,” I lectured. “I mean, he’s a jackass for sure, but that’s not illegal.”

Barack whispered for me to come over.

“I know that, silly,” he chided. “I’m just giving him a hard time.”

I smiled. This I could get behind.

“Well, he is the President, Mitt,” I said. “You’re kind of at his mercy.”

“So dark,” Mitt whispered. “It’s so dark in here. I’ve forgotten what it’s like on the outside. Tell Ann to move on. I still would like some visitation from my money, though.”

(Dramatic picture of Mitt in prison is dramatic.)

“Maybe some solitary confinement would improve his perspective on things,” I said.

“You’re gonna leave me here?!” Mitt screamed.

“Well yeah,” I said. “Hey, he’s got two super soldiers from Halo guarding you. I don’t stand a chance of breaking you out. Good luck!”

I waved and left the room.

“Wait! Come back!” he yelled. “What if they gave me a cellmate and he makes me his boyfriend?! I’m too conservative for that!”

Middle Classy

“So how’s that back pain, Eric?” Mini-Barry asked me.

“Pretty bad,” I groaned from the couch. “I can’t really move much.”

“Why don’t you go to the doctor?” Mini-Mitt asked.

“I don’t have insurance,” I grumbled. “I definitely don’t have the money to pay that out of pocket.”

“With my health care law, in 2014 you’d be able to go to the doctor,” Barry said smugly.

“Doesn’t do me much good right now.”

“Just sayin’,” the stuffed President shrugged.

“What do you mean you don’t have the money to pay to go to the doctor?” Mitt asked all confuzzled.

“Here we go,” Barack said under his breath.

“I’m just middle class, Mitt,” I explained, clearly annoyed. “Without insurance, going to the doctor is a luxury I can’t afford.”

“Pfft,” Mitt pffted. “Health care isn’t a luxury. Yachts are luxury. Health care is a privilege.”

My face turned red in anger as I fought the urge to argue this subject, but I tried to stay on topic.

“ANYWAY,” I shouted, “Without insurance, going to the doctor is expensive. People in the middle class like me can’t just go to the doctor without insurance. That’s the whole problem with health care. Many of the poor can get Medicaid and people with better jobs get insurance through work. Those of us in the middle have neither.”

“So what?” Mitt blew me off. “Just pay it out of pocket. You middle classers are better off than you act.”

My anger turned to hysterical laughter.

“What are you talking about?” I guffawed. “A lot of the middle class is barely making ends meet!”

“Well sure,” Mitt said. “But you’re making, what, two hundred thousand? Two hundred fifty thousand? Surely dropping a couple hundred to see a back doctor wouldn’t be too rough. Sure, it means your vacation to the Virgin Islands is a day shorter, but isn’t it worth it?”

Barack and I both just stared at Mitt in silence.

“You really are out of touch, you know that?” Barry said.

“Hey, who are you to talk?” Mitt got offended. “You’re rich too!”

“Yeah, but unlike you, I wasn’t BORN rich,” Mini-Prez explained. “YOU were, and I sure as heck know that the middle class isn’t $250k. That…wow. I can’t even describe how bad that makes you sound there, Scrooge McDuck.”

“Who is Scrooge McDuck?” Mitt asked re-confuzzled.

“If you don’t know who Scrooge McDuck is, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I said sternly.