For some white male voters, presidential elections boil down to one crucial question: "Which candidate would you rather invite to a barbecue?" In 2000, these guys chose George W. Bush over Al Gore.
In other words, an idiot won the presidency because a bunch of white males thought he'd be more entertaining after six beers and some marshmallows.
So guys, before Election Day, ask yourselves this: Is Mitt Romney really the kind of dude you'd want peering over your shoulder while you stand in front of your Weber wondering why the burgers are sticking to the grill again? A few points to consider:
Mitt doesn't drink beer.
Mitt doesn't have a man cave or a La-Z-Boy.
Mitt never scratches his balls.
Mitt doesn't have balls.
Mitt has never sworn at a lawnmower.
Mitt puts Dijon mustard on hot dogs.
Mitt has his socks dry cleaned.
Mitt has never used the phrase, "How's it hangin'?"
If Mitt ever uses the phrase "How's it hangin?" he would put the "g" at the end of "hangin.'"
Mitt never got a toolkit for his birthday.
If Mitt ever gets a toolkit for his birthday, he won't know how to use it.
Mitt dyes his hair and uses hair gel.
Mitt checks his hair in rear view mirrors.
Mitt doesn't know how to change a tire without consulting the owners' manual.
Mitt has probably never thrown a basketball in public.
Mitt saw a bowling ball once and thought it was defective because it had holes in it.
Mitt looks stupid in flannel shirts.
Mitt looks even stupider in work boots.
Mitt looks way stupider in a hard hat.
Mitt doesn't really understand NASCAR.
Mitt owns only one baseball cap. It says "I Heart Goldman Sachs."
Mitt never wears his baseball cap because it might muss his hair.
Mitt tells dirty jokes, but they're always about soil.
Mitt eats ribs with a fork and knife and never wipes his mouth with his sleeve.
If none of this fazes you, go ahead, invite Mitt, the arrogant preppie who was born with a silver spoon, the guy who enjoys firing people like you and wants to lower his own taxes so you can struggle even harder to afford hot dogs to slap on your Weber.
And if you do invite him, make sure to use the good china, the Waterford crystal and the linen napkins, and don't forget to buy Brie for his cheeseburger and caviar for the nachos.
Or, you can invite the other guy, the one who started from nothing and worked his way up with student loans, the fella who can easily throw a three-pointer and talk about draft picks, the dude who probably has a man cave, the guy who doesn't check his hair in the rear view mirror, doesn't use hair gel, knows what a socket wrench is, drinks beer, puts French's yellow mustard on his hot dogs and probably scratches his balls.
Either way, try not to burn the burger buns this time.