Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Sara(h) Smiles, Part 8: The Republican Frontrunners Compared

I canvass on, and the response remains gratifying. I have observed only one household that was enthusiastic about Obama’s recent tour of weird Asian countries; it was headed by an IT consultant from Mumbai whose wife had a red dot on her forehead. I thought at first that he was introducing himself by profession — as a deejay — but it turned out that he was an IT consultant, and that his name was actually Vijay. I have literally never interacted with an Indian person I found less than charming — though there were moments when Ms. Somi Guha and I wanted to dismember one another — and this was no exception, but I share Sarah’s (unstated, but let’s not be naïve, shall we?) belief that both we and the Indians themselves would be happiest if they stayed on the reservations we were kind enough to grant them, and on which we, bending over backwards to be fair, let them run casinos and ingest peyote to their hearts' content.

I also encountered a couple of voters who, if the election were tomorrow, said they would be more likely to vote for Mitt Romney and Mike Huckabee. I appreciate that the latter hides his evangelical fanaticism under great geniality, and has an irresistibly cute surname, one that simultaneously evokes perhaps the greatest character in all of American fiction — Huck Finn — and Applebee’s, which in many communities represents the pinnacle of fine dining. I appreciate too that he can play the bass guitar a little bit, but so could John Kerry, whose last name evoked a beloved Stephen King heroine, and how much good did it do him? I would like Huckabee a lot more if he had a cute regional accent and didn’t think of gay, lesbians, bisexuals, and the transgendered as perverts, except in cases where their (mis)behavior warranted it, as it does far too often!

As for Romney, we’ve never had a president with a more down-to-earth, have-a-coupla-brewskis-with nickname — compared to Mitt, Jimmy and Bill sound like Chauncey and Fauntleroy. (Speaking which, am I the only American sports fan who marvels that there are no professional point guards or cornerbacks named Fauntleroy? Looks to me like an opportunity waiting for an unwed teenaged mother to seize it!) Mitt’s also got the advantage of looking fantastically presidential. Who wouldn’t prefer to see big, chiseled-featured, gray-templed Mitt squeezing the hell out of the hand of a fellow leader rather than B. Hussein Obama, with his disproportionate ears and teeth?

Of course, if we’re going strictly on looks, Sarah is our best choice by a very, very large margin. Can you imagine how the national mood will improve at the sight of the first photos of her receiving Germany’s Angela Merkel — who’s a lot more a GNWF than a MILF, if we’re being honest with each other — or Australia’s Julia Gillard, who might be viewed as a 2 in a flattering light, but isn’t going to take anybody’s eyes off Sarah, who I think most guys would agree is at least a 6.75 (in the over-45 category) at the moment? I know what you’re thinking — that if we elect her in 2012, she’ll be 60 by the time her second term ends, and who’s that hot at 60? Consider this: by 2024, cosmetic surgery will probably have advanced to the point at which Julia Gillard can be a 7, if that’s what she wants, and we’ll probably have made huge strides with botox too.

What I asked voters to bear in mind is that Mitt’s five identical sons look like human Russian dolls, and exclaim, “Holy crap!” when excited, and that his wife Ann is a grown-up version of the universally lusted-after cheerleader in high school who wouldn’t speak to you because she frankly didn’t even see you — you were invisible to girls that hot — or, worse, was so patronizing you wished she really hadn’t seen you. We conservatives know the type only too well. They’re mostly married to so-called progressives with degrees from one of the big elitist East Coast universities — Harvard, Yale, Stanford, and so on — with a lot of ivy. And we common-sense conservatives, in the process of taking back our country, say to hell with ‘em!

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