Romney Loves “LowLives” Onion Reports

Romney Prepares To Meet The People

If there is a silver lining to the shit storm clouds floated by U.S. Republican Grand Poobah nominee Mitt Thurston Romney III esquire, it might be that his intemperate remarks about 47% of the U.S. population have definitely confirmed the existence of Low Life to the south.   A lot of it.

The ever egregious Mittens offered this apology to our U.S. Brethren and Sistren after accusing them of anti-plutocratic bigotry:

“First and foremost, I would like to offer a heartfelt apology to all the whores, junkies, bums, and grime-covered derelicts out there who make up nearly half our nation,” a visibly contrite and solemn Romney said outside a campaign stop at a local high school. “Let me assure you that I in no way meant to offend any of the putrid-smelling, barefoot masses out there. My campaign is not about dividing this nation, but about bringing all sides together—the rich, elegant members of the upper class, as well as the 47 percent who are covered in flies and eat directly from back-alley dumpsters.”

The award-winning investigative journo-thingy “The Onion” reports that Romney now promises to fight for the 47% who, through no fault of their own, often wind up as “drug-addicted, high-school-dropout single mothers and fathers who sleep in gutters while sewer rats nibble at their necrotic flesh.”

Reached for comment on his gold-plated, high flush throne in the House of Commons, Canadian Prime Minister Stephan “Not Stef-Fan” Harper said, “Mitt’s a wimp.  He should know better. Once you start feeding these crapulous vermin you can never get rid of them.  They breed like rabbits.  My driver had to peel two of them off of the Caddy’s bumper on the way to the Hill today.  God I hate this country.”

Romney has scheduled a press conference for Thursday evening to apologize to Muslims at home and abroad.  In preparation, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists moved the Doomsday Clock forward to 30 seconds before midnight.

  • Δρακακις
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About Drakakis

Street Poet scribbling to your tired, your poor, your huddled masses; the wretched refuse of your teeming shore, the homeless, tempest-tost ...
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