Crybaby Mitt…Pwese Mr. Pwesident Don’t Hurt Widdle Perfect Me

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Note to Mitt Romney:  Life Sucks! From the Politico.

“...What is surprising is hearing a candidate say, essentially, “stop hitting me.” As the folks at First Read note, this would seem to be something of a concession that the negatives are bothering the candidate, whom a round of new national polls shows running at a deficit that exceeds the margin of error. Some of the attacks have indeed gone rather far over the line (the ad that yokes a man’s loss of his job due to Bain Capital to his wife’s death was at minimum factually off and at most suggests a pretty ugly thing about the candidate)….”

My first poodle was a multi-color show dog, a toy, given to me by the parents of a kid I tutored.  In six weeks I took the kid from failing his fifth grade English, to an A.  One night, his mother called and said they had something for me, to thank me for what I had done for their son.  They drove into town, from Marietta, and came to the door with this little bundle.  Tommy was about 4 months old.  I named him George Thomas Seaver Reidhead.

He was feisty, fearless, and had a wonderful talent. If he did not like someone, he would lift his little leg and pee all over them.  He and my sister, who loves dogs, detested one another.  When she was visiting, if he was mad at her, he would go into her bedroom, at night, and leave a little editorial comment.  Inevitably, she would step in it, in her bare feet, in the dark.  Consequently, he was named Tommy Turd.

Tommy Turd hated most people.  The moment my Grandfather Froehlich would arrive, he was in Grandy’s lap.  He did the same thing with a cousin of my father’s.  He loved my best friend, and detested her husband to the point where the minute he came into the house TT would bark, try biting his ankle, then pee on his cowboy boots.

He was fearless.

Anyone who has ever had a puppy, especially a sensitive little girl poodle, knows that, when they are confronted by something they consider threatening, they piddle.  Their piddle contains scent markers that are to tell other animals that they are non-threatening. My wonderful, late, Clancy did this for nearly a year and a half.  I was in retail at the time, and tried to keep her with me as much as possible.  Then one day, a customer walked by and shoved her with his cowboy boot. She was maybe three months old, completely innocent. Then she piddled, everywhere.  I asked the jerk to leave and never return.

That kind of thing works well for a small, innocent little puppy that is completely defenseless.  It never worked for my current toy poodle, Ronald Rumsfeld Reagan Reidhead.  Rums has NEVER been innocent.  At the august age of 14 months, he was literally banned from Tombstone. Do you know how bad one must be to be banned from Tombstone, Arizona?  I have often accused him of being a little sociopath.  After 8 years, I’ve come to learn he does have a conscience, he just never bothers using it.  It took 8 years for me to figure out how to discipline him, he is that naughty.

He delights in picking on, bullying anything smaller than he is.  He will make a kamakazi run for a pit bull if allowed, which is why he’s never allowed out of doors without a leash.  He delights in bullying cats and kittens.  He has tried to bully the infamous Doc Holiday, but she will not allow it.  She will simply hiss at him, and he runs, cowering and crying in fear.   Doc Holiday has a bit of a reputation.  She has claws and knows how to use them.  When hopped up on C-nip, she’s a nasty drunk.  She blinded the late, great, Pig Boulden (a pug) in one eye, just for the heck of it.

Their battles get old, after awhile.  Even Rums knows Doc is going to beat the you know what out of him, yet he keeps on keeping on, and has the scars to prove it.  He’s basically a coward.  Doc will sit on one of the stairs in my condo, and just dare him to go up or down.  He sits, crying, shivering, until I come rescue him.  This has been going on since he was a baby.

He’s a yapper.  Someone comes in and he yaps.  He wants attention, he yaps.  He also jumps up and down, like Tigger, yapping, trying to get attention.  If he does not get it, he has been known to nip a person on their rear end.

The Little Guy is also selfish.  He steals every toy that I put out for the cats.  He has more toys of his own than 90% of the kids in the world.  I put out C-nip for the cats to have a little recreational pharmaceutical usage, and he eats it. When Princess Sadie, my parents Bichon comes to visit, he takes her treats.  He goes to visit her, and steals her treats, hiding them.  He then keeps yapping at his grandparents’ cats, until Fred surfaces and slaps him around a little.

But – he’s basically a coward.  He won’t let me out of his sight.  I can’t leave him with my parents, he starts crying.  If he needs to stay with them for a day or so, they must pick him up at my condo, while I’m not here. If he’s with them and sees me, he starts crying.  When I’m visiting with him, and he’s doing something, I get too far from him, and he comes crying, to me.

Rumsy’s philosophy in life is that he can steal everyone’s toys, eat all the cat’s food.  He can steal Sadie’s chewy bones.  He can do what ever he likes.  No one is going to make him mind.  He is accountable to no one.  If he is called to task for what he has done, he runs, crying.

It reminds me of Mitt Romney.

Mitt Romney is like Rums.  He’s a selfish bully who easily destroys others with his vicious attacks, half-truths, and lies, but don’t dare let anyone hold him accountable.  Now, he’s begging Barack Obama, not to talk about his past.

Politico

Perhaps Mitt Romney might want to consider growing up before he treats anyone else like dirt.

 

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