England [sic] is just a small island. Its roads and houses are small. With few exceptions, it doesn’t make things that people in the rest of the world want to buy. And if it hadn’t been separated from the continent by water, it almost certainly would have been lost to Hitler’s ambitions. Yet only two lifetimes ago, Britain ruled the largest and wealthiest empire in the history of humankind. Britain controlled a quarter of the earth’s land and a quarter of the earth’s population.
That’s from his increasingly ironically titled book, No Apology.
Suck. On. This. Mr. Mitt:
Top that with some steroidally swollen MacMansion in
Malibu La Jolla, you unctuous, climbing, nouveau slime-doggy*
And (b): Mitt shouldn’t worry about apologizing for America to foreigners; if what we’ve seen just in a few hours is any guide, he’ll have a months-long (at least) backlog of personal sorries to deliver by next Tuesday.
Oddly, I think I’ve got to start reading Mitt’s golden prose soon. I’ll tell you all why after I’m done with it….
Bonus Romney allegorical image:
*”Slime-doggy” is an insult directed at Arnie in some otherwise long forgotten episode of L.A. Law. I have for years longed to fling it at just the right target. I feel….satisfied.
Update: Via the Guardian’s live blog of Mitt gaffes I learn (first) that John Podhoretz, of all people, has started to pile on:
Romney in London. Come on. We needed this. It’s a little comic relief. Kind of like Mr. Bean, only he’s an American.
As the Guardian puts it, that would be would-be-President Bean to you proles…not exactly the image sought at the first dance of a candidate’s foreign policy debutantant ball.
And then there’s the genially oafish Tory Boris Johnson at the torch lighting ceremony, taking the piss out of Mitt in front of a live audience of zillions and a broadcast viewership of gazillions:
I hear there’s a guy called Mitt Romney who wants to know whether we’re ready. Are we ready?
That’s gotta hurt.
Jan Prost, Death and the Miser, before 1529.