I’m not voting for you even though I was one of those undecided voters who seriously considered it.
I tried, I really tried.
You were the winner of Republican Idol, for darn sakes! Who doesn’t like a winner? Losers, that’s who.
But I’ve learned that you’re really a cargo cult of other people’s terrible ideas.
I was going to text, but I didn’t want you to have my phone number.
YouTube was completely out, because I didn’t want you to see me and I’m having a very bad hair month.
Twitter was like your own beliefs, too short and ephemeral.
And I couldn’t use Pinterest because I couldn’t think of a clever e-card or find one that would work.
Facebook, was, well, Facebook, and I didn’t want to surpise my friends, family, acquaintances, and people I’ve forgotten how I know until I told you first because it’s a manners thing. I didn’t want to run the risk of you asking me why I did it before I got a chance to tell you why I did it.
So here we are.
Since the Internet is such a small place nowadays and we might just have people from our respective camps mingle and speculate on if I might change my mind, I wanted to publicly avow now and here before the world that we are never going to be a thing together and that I think you are a self-righteous, uptight, hypocritical, boring, lame, overreaching, cold oligarch of the worst sort that extracts instead of invests, and that I still I love my friends even if they’re voting for you.
We had some good times together looking at your hair and forehead, and laughing our way through the primary at the nutbags you had to crawl over in order to grovel in front of us today, but neither excuse your boorish, sexist, misogynistic, paternalistic behaviors and philosophies, nor your twin, idiotic, anti-thought, reactionary, spreadsheet-selected excuses that are your policies and your running mate.
Dan Quayle looks like an elder statesman in more than age compared to Paul Ryan. Do you know how hard that is for everybody else but John McCain?
Staged photo-ops in soup kitchens? Not what, but who the fuck came up with that one? I’ll take the risqué carving from South America flashed to the press any day of the year instead. At least Dan’s handlers had a sense of humor unlike the useless, cynical charlatans in your employ.
If, on the odd chance you actually win, I will continue to agitate and ferment my personally-held beliefs about you amongst the populace while respecting the process by which you were elected.
P.S. – Did you know that Jane Goodall’s laywers once tried to sue everybody on the Internet who said something bad about her?
P.P.S. – This article is a parody and should be considered satire, and is in no way designed to suggest that Dr. Jane Goodall or any of her registered agents has ever authorzied or consented to the use of her name to sell foreskin slippers, or that Mitt Romney is anything other than an upstanding and outstanding candidate for President of the United States.
P.P.P.S. – No llamas were harmed writing this.
P.P.P.P.S. – I’m very sorry that I used foreskin and Mitt Romney in the same sentence. Lawyers, and all.