Win or lose, Mitt Romney’s got a 5-point plan

 

                       WIN

Ask Cesar Milan, “Who’s the pack leader now?”

Create cabinet-level department of 5-point plans.

Clear paintings out of National Gallery.  Replace them with pictures of Rafalca.

Retire campaign debt with gala “Night of 1000 people I pretend to give a shit about.”

Propose constitutional amendment to ban canine abortion except in case of rape or incest.

Meet environmentalists and tell ‘em to Frack this.

Convince American women I’m on their side.  Marry ‘em all.

Order Paul Ryan to stop calling me Zelig.

I got your 5-point plan right here.  

                        LOSE

Get a week-long pedicure.

Make an appointment with the sofa and some Pirate’s Booty.

Find a political philosophy and stick with it.

Get a dog that won’t complain about a little wind.

Develop a 5-point plan to determine the effectiveness of 5-point plans.

Prepare for 2016 Presidential campaign.  Moisturize.

Work on my compassionate grin.

See about the weatherman position at Fox News.

Join the touring company of “Book of Mormon.”

Your demagoguery is more demagogic than my demagoguery

“The first man who hurled an insult instead of a rock founded civilization.”                                                                                                                                                                               –Sigmund Freud

 “Say that one more time and I’ll bury my foot up your ass.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                      –You

Last Thanksgiving, during one of those philosophical chats for which you never give thanks, I kidded my mother about her absolute devotion to the pro-choice cause.  Within seconds, she phoned her gynecologist and had me removed from her condo with a forceps.

On the other side of the political divide, folks are just as humorless.  When I suggested that God, like any good creator, agonizes over his handiwork and thinks the theory of intelligent design is a load of crap, some Christians prayed for my demise.

What’s my point? We’re becoming a bunch of extremists.  By “we,” I mean you.  And by “you,” I mean your political selves–a unique form of frenzied personality disorder–and not necessarily your actual selves.

So, dear extremist, I couldn’t help but notice that your guiding philosophy, whether left or right, is Resentment.

Rush Limbaugh Is a Big Fat Idiot and Other Obs...

The great fear growing in the conservative breast, is the coming day when the government makes you share a bedroom with an LGBT caucus member.  And watch out for a world where you liberals need Rush Limbaugh’s permission to untangle the ultrasound from your thongs.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t disagree with your political opponents.  Have at it.  Change the channel when you see Bill Maher or Aaron Sorkin or Patricia Heaton or Sean Hannity.    Jesus, if I made my viewing choices based on who I agreed with philosophically, I’d be reduced to watching the steam-driven colonics channel.

Have fun with all the pre-election hyperbole but–whether you’re a Wall Street apologist or an Entitlement pimp–just restrain your impulse to silence the other guy.  Remember, it was only a few months ago when liberals with digital pitchforks tried to have Rush Limbaugh thrown off the air.  Conservatives play the game just as shamelessly by creating Kafka-esque bureaucracies to exclude minority voters.

Maybe this is the time to remind you that we’re having an election, not a bar fight.  Let’s not turn into Rwanda or Pakistan–though I’m sure both places are  chock full of wonderfulness.

So when the returns come in and your bet pays off, will you meet your opponent in the parking lot, shake hands and collect your winnings with grace?  Or  force him into the trunk of his car and make him disappear?

Heresies

A hacker friend sent me the following:

Sheldon Addison
Venetian Hotel                                                                                                                     Macao

Dear Newt,

Your not-so-terrific showing in the recent Republican primaries is making me reconsider whether your Presidential candidacy can realistically advance the cause of Israel.

It’s not that I haven’t appreciated your words of support over the years, but when it comes to making a case for Eretz Yisrael, my granddaughters—Caitlin, Chrissy, and Hayley—have become serious competitors for my financial support.

How can a trio of twenty-somethings influence minds in a way that a former House speaker can’t?  Well, it seems that, semi-literate blonde girls have been making history ever since Joan of Arc.  These girls are not just family.  They’re a street team who bill themselves as “Hot and Half-Jewish and What You Gonna Do ‘Bout It?”

The question is, who has been more effective generating goodwill for Israel?  You, your primary opponents, or my granddaughters?

Mitt Romney.  He seems to like the idea of Israel but might feel a stronger connection to the large number of dearly departed in the Promised Land now lining up for their free Mormon conversion.

Newt Gingrich.  There’s a Yom Kippur video showing you, Newt, jimmying open the McDonalds on Ben Yehuda Avenue so Calista can have a McRib Sandwich.  In the election business we call that an oopsie.

My granddaughters.  With little more than their bikinis and little fur shtreimels, Chrissy, Caitlin, and Hayley, created a rabid, pop-lockin’ Purim flash mob.  Only in the Orthodox part of Jerusalem did people scream, “Prostitute!”   Unfortunately, their procession never got close to the Dome of the Rock which was booked that day for a stoning.

You want to know effective, Newt?  My gorgeous girls and their little street team have also made serious inroads in enemy territory:  Hollywood.

What kind of serious inroads?   Mel Gibson invited them to his court-ordered Seder.

They’re so busy they had to reply “Maybe” to Madonna’s Evite for her Kaballah Blow-out.

I admit we still have plenty of work to do to create a convincing firewall for their Super PAC financing.  But Chrissy reassured me with this promise:  “I checked with my girl, Sarah, who’s a total bitch about money and I said, “Do you have a problem what that?” And she’s like “Nah.”

That’s outreach, bubbie.

An Infallible Election Predictor

Can you absorb one more election pre-mortem?

In these days of radical downsizing—unless your organization is too big to downsize–may I suggest several more candidates for the axe:  Gallup, Harris, Zogby, Mason-Dixon, Quinnipac, and the other pollsters whose research occupies far too much of our mindspace.

The more reliable predictor of presidential electability is my “Cool Guy” political paradigm.   It’s an unscientific but utterly infallible measure.

What is the Cool Guy prism?  It insists that in national campaigns, the cooler candidate always prevails against a dorkier adversary.   Experience, policy expertise, wealth, family connections and other factors that we always thought vital only truly count when they add or detract from our perceptions about a candidate’s “Cool.” When so many of us suffer from the madness borne of election fever, doesn’t it make sense that we seek a more human remedy?

By “cool,” I’m not talking about the amount of McLuhanesque cool a candidate projects although I’ll admit it seems to be a television-age phenomenon.  First, let’s define our terms.  A Cool Guy is unflappable, genuine, and quietly confident. A woman, by the way, can be a Cool Guy but only if she’s really cool.

You want proof?  In the last election, Barack Obama was indisputably cooler than John McCain not to mention Hilary Clinton and his other Democratic primary opponents.  Barack was way cool.  Absolute cool.  He couldn’t lose.

The real test of the Cool Guy paradigm, however, is whether it also applies to past presidential contests.

Whether you detest George W Bush or not, he presented enough ranch-hand cool to dispatch John Kerry in 2004. Four years earlier, against the vice-nerd, Al Gore, who labored to push every sentence up a hill, W was practically Rat-Pack cool.  Today, even with a big, new bankroll that should re-brand Gore as cool, what does he do?  He tells us the end is near.  Not cool.

Before George W, we saw the cool-meister, Bill Clinton, face down Mean Bob Dole.  No slouch in the understatement department himself, Dole had no chance against Slick Willie.  Even Clinton’s first national opponent, Bush 41, an incumbent President with a Desert Storm notch on his belt, couldn’t outcool Bill Clinton.

George HW Bush was nobody’s idea of cool.   And was the flame ever lower than whatever animated his opponent in 1988, Michael Dukakis?  But once Dukakis put on that geeky tank driver’s helmet, he was lost.

You can argue whether Ronald Reagan fits the Cool Guy paradigm but remember, the deciding factor is relative cool.  Reagan was, by that standard, sure to be a landslide victor over irascible Walter Mondale or his predecessor Democrat, the Puritan scold, Jimmy Carter.

And so it always goes.  Carter was cooler than the uber-bumbler, Gerald Ford.  Richard Nixon, by every known measure, was light years from Cool but, compared to George McGovern, perpetually at war with the Viet Nam War, or the pathologically Happy Warrior, Hubert Humphrey, he was a shoo-in.  1968 was also the year of George Wallace’s third party appeal to white-hot working class resentment, not the coolest image a candidate can craft.  Wallace didn’t help the cool of his cause by naming a warmongering Air Force General as his running mate.  Lyndon Johnson was not cooler than his 1964 opponent except in the public mind.  LBJ successfully hung the “warmonger” tag on Barry Goldwater, and Goldwater complied by threatening North Viet Nam with a return to the Stone Age.

Before LBJ there was JFK, unflappable, whip-smart, witty, and secure in himself.  He was as cool as they get.  What we’ve learned about Kennedy since then has only burnished his rep for Cool.

Does all this mean that Cool is objectively better?  Only in the eyes of the electorate.

Cool guys, in the heat of a campaign and under the sway of consultants, fritter away and even lose their cool.  How else to explain the loss of a lifelong cool guy, maverick, hero–John McCain–who under glare of the national campaign, became the hot-under-the-collar candidate.  At the beginning of the 2008 race, the odds seemed to be against the inexperienced Obama, but the odds don’t have a chance against genuinely cool people.

What does any of this mean for the Republican Party cool-o-meter this year?  Somehow, Mitt Romney has managed to make being filthy rich seem uncool.  His inauthenticity has put him at something of a disadvantage against Rick Santorum who doesn’t give a damn what political consultants think as long as he can talk out of his ass.  He’d be too damned comfortable playing role of the “Shakespeare In Love” censor who shuts down “Romeo and Juliet.”  That makes him even less cool than Romney.

That’s the competitive frame for candidates going up against a President who, in one year, iced Osama Bin Laden and channeled Al Green.  A Prez.

What about a convention-brokered, outlier candidate/savior like Sarah Palin.  Unless a slow jam becomes her campaign soundtrack and she learns how to purr into the mic, most voters will think she’d best cool her heels right where she is.

So, who do I predict will come out on top in 2012?   That’s easy.  The Cool Guy.

The Cool Guy Wins