Dear Mittens: As one of the illustrious 47%, I’d like to talk about you for a moment. Who the actual fuck do you think you are? Oh, that’s right—you don’t think; you have someone on the payroll to do that for you. Where do you get off making assumptions about my expectations about my government? Where the hell do you think you would be without your daddy’s handouts and entitlements? You do realize that he left you that safety net because he knew you were too worthless and weak to survive on your own. He was aware that you were incapable of doing an honest day’s work, no matter the color of the collar wrapped around it. Who tells you what to think, Mittens? It’s obvious to anyone with a scrap of an IQ that your opinion is for sale to the highest bidder. It changes like god-damned Baltimore weather. Who’s holding the Etch-a-Sketch, Mitt? Because it’s clearly too heavy a burden for your worthless ass to bear. You have the unmitigated gall to stand before this nation and tell us you’re running because you love your country. Fuck you for thinking we believe that for a nanosecond. When your country called you to serve, what did you do? That’s right Mittens, you pissed your pants and ran away and let the real men and women of this country do the work, because your over-blown sense of self-importance wouldn’t allow you the courage to do what real people of this nation do every god-damned day. You were a missionary? Fuck you again, Mittens. God should be ashamed of your pathetic ass. Real missionaries perform a service to those less fortunate. Even when it’s carrying the message of their beliefs, it is done in the spirit of caring for another human being’s soul. And caring is something you know nothing of. You’re incapable of such a selfless characteristic. You treat the presidency like a shiny new toy that you covet and your campaign is tantamount to a toddler’s tantrum. You’ll hold your breath and kick and scream until you get what you want. Well, not this time, you arrogant, elitist, worthless imbecile. You can capitalize on the back-water, red-neck, racist stupidity. You can count on the vote of wealthy old white men. Just in case you hadn’t heard, Mitt—the rich white guys are only one percent of the US population and the racists are too ignorant to vote in numbers that have any significance. The rest of us are going to rise up on election day and say something to you that you’ve never heard before in your privileged life—NO. And not just no but HELL NO!! You see, Mittens, we may not have a lot of money, but we have dignity, and we have intelligence and we do things that matter every single day. We affect the world around us and we make a difference. You, on the other hand, have lead a life that is completely inconsequential. If you dropped dead this moment, after the collective sigh of relief from the republican party, no one on planet Earth would remember your name, because you
are
nothing, and you’ve
done
nothing that matters. You’re nothing but a spoiled-rotten little rich bully. On November 6th, we’re going to stand up to you, and in true Romney fashion—you’ll turn tail and run away again. The presidency of the United States isn’t up for sale to the highest bidder, Mittens. No matter what your rich pals tell you. Watch your back, spoiled little rich kid. You’ve just pissed off everyone. And your white-bread friends from the country club? They don’t like you either.
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