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What Happens if Mitt Blows It, Too?

We are seeing some serious self-destruction in this Republican primary.

To be fair, this isn’t true so much from those candidates that can’t seem to get anything real going from the start. (I’m looking at your utter lack of charisma, Pawlenty; your employment by the Obama administration, Huntsman; your insider has-been status, Gingrich; your lovemaking to Ayn Rand, Ron Paul; your Google problem, Santorum; and your who-the-hell-are-you, Gary Johnson.)

But man, the others?

Michele Bachmann entered with a flash so bright, she made us all forget about Sarah Palin. Considering the shitstorm she really could’ve been, Bachmann’s run a surprisingly sane campaign. I mean, sure, there’s the odd mistaken history, her gay-converting husband, and her everyday batshit craziness, but she hasn’t given us the holy-shit-she-just-said-she’d-nuke-China moment we all expected from her.

Unfortunately for her, the macho version of Bachmann entered the race in the form of Rick Perry. Tough-talkin’ Texan, like the ever-popular George W. Bush. (I’m only partially sarcastic about that, by the way. Did you happen to catch how loud the cheers were when he threw out the first pitch during the World Series?) And then Rick spoke. Not only is his ideology fucking crazy, but he can’t speak it well. Two bad debates sunk the poor bastard. It’s pretty hard to look stupid enough that even the right-wing deserts you (what with their anti-intellectualism), but that’s pretty much what happened to Rick Perry.

With nowhere else to turn (and by “nowhere else” I mean Mitt Romney), the right headed toward Herman Cain. “This man seems like our kind of crazy.” Cain skyrocketed in the polls, suddenly leading the presumptive nominee (yes, Mitt). And now, in the latest implosion, not only is Herman fumbling the way he talks about a history of sexual harassment claims against him, i.e. avoiding straightforward answers, but it’s also come to light that his campaign may have violated federal tax law and campaign finance law. Ouch. Bad day.

Also, can we acknowledge for the record that Godfather’s Pizza sucks?

That leaves us, and Republican primary voters, with Mitt Romney. Poor bastard can’t get any love. He’s definitely fucked some shit up, what with the various changes in stances he’s taken on any number of issues, depending on whatever he thinks will help him most in any given moment. And boy, Republicans are more hesitant to commit to him than he is to commit to a firm stance on anything. But his self-destructive moments are a lot smaller than the self-destructive moments of others. Mitt’s best strategy for the rest of the Republican primary season might just be to take his millions and hide on an island somewhere. As long as the media can’t find him, he can’t fuck it up.

But what if he does? And by “fuck it up,” I mean, really fuck it up? What if we find out that Mitt is a plural marriage Mormon? What if we learn that he killed his grandma? What if he gets caught masturbating outside the Supreme Court? What if he goes to animal shelters for cats, just to serve them for dinner? What if he tweets a photo of his cock to Andrew Weiner? What if he wears women’s underwear? What if Mitt Romney is the mysterious creator of the tiny paper sculptures turning up around Edinburgh?

Where on earth would the Republican voters turn then? Would Tim Pawlenty jump back in the race? And wouldn’t that be a flip-flop, too?

I find it physically painful to follow all this stuff too closely. Almost everything I’ve heard the Republican candidates actually say has been upsetting. Each of them — in their own slightly varied way — holds an ideology that can only result in dangerous policy.

It looks like, once again, in 2012, I’ll be voting against someone, rather than for someone.

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