Go Ahead. Ask Mitt About That Dog One More Time.


Your humble correspondent is waiting for the day when W. Mittens Romney finally can’t hold back the thermonuclear-caliber rage that’s been building for months underneath that Vulture Capitalist haircut. Against all odds, he’s managed to keep that White-Hot Blast of Fury tamped down on the campaign trail, which he powers through with the pained smile of a man in the midst of an un-lubed prostate check.

How he does it is a mystery, like the Holy Trinity and the place where babies come from. If I spent every day forced to fondle random strangers’ screeching spawn and recite the same buzzword-stuffed stump speech with all the passion and conviction of a telemarketer on quaaludes, I’d be one bad week away from going all Texas Bell Tower myself. If only he’d definitively wrapped up the primaries in Florida, poor Mittens wouldn’t have been forced to keep interacting with—shudder—crowds of real human beings.

If anything’s going to make the Illegul Pinche Space Lizard raise his irritation level to DEFCON-1, though, it isn’t the prospect of another few months mud-wrestling Newt Gingrich for the nomination. It isn’t even the risk of exiting the Michigan primary splattered in Santorum. No, I suspect it’ll be the fact that the media keeps bringing up that fucking dog.

Yes, that dog—the one that Romney placed in a crate atop his car, back in the day, for a long drive to that soshulist worker’s paradise (Canada) with the family. The actual interior of the vehicle was already overstuffed, apparently, with kids and baggage and pink slips. According to one version of the story, the beast (the dog, not Mittens) responded to this unusual mode of transportation by freaking the hell out, as canines in unusual situations are wont to do. Herr Romney has repeatedly pushed back against the story, insisting that the dog, in fact, really loved hurtling through the open air at highway speeds.

“You know PETA has not been my fan over the years. PETA was after me for having a rodeo at the Olympics,” he said a few years back. “PETA was after me when I went quail hunting in Georgia—and they’re not happy that my dog likes fresh air.”

I doubt the Romney campaign’s responding to anyone from the media who brings the dog thing up. Even so, they’re probably starting to notice how the story just won’t die, no matter how much they stonewall. Señor Romney’s supporters would probably argue that strapping the dog to the roof is an innovative solution to a sticky conundrum. But people have also said the same thing about shooting prisoners.

Some day, hopefully very soon, some unlucky soul will ask about that dog one too many times, and Romney’s decades of carefully repressed rage will pour forth. Picture Conan the Barbarian on a rampage, only with a fundraising problem and way better hair. Come to think of it, ANGRY MITTENZ might actually appeal to Republicans looking for a blood-and-thunder candidate to stick it to that sinister Muslim Marxist Hitler, Barry Obama.

Buckle your seatbelts and strap Poochy down good, peasants!

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  1. […] intermediate steps is the November showdown between Barry Obama a/k/a Blackie Hussein and the noted animal lover W. Mittens […]

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