Romney, Ryan and the Gods

Mitt Romney is a prick. So too is his wife. Paul Ryan is different. He is an earnest, idiotic prick whose economic plans are so transparently inane he should only be allowed to present them after emerging from a teeny tiny clown car while wearing giant rubber feet, polka dot pajamas and a glowing red nose ball.

Ryan, as we know, has been shaped by Ayn Rand and the Son Of Man, Romney by the Angel Moroni and the living Jacob Marley. Who among us cannot envision the hearty Yuletide tableau. Mitt and Ann surrounded by Tag and Nag and Drag and Slag, a roaring fire of tax documents, as Mitt reads aloud from the Romney version of A Christmas Carol which ends early in Stave One with Scrooge demanding "Are there no prisons?".

In fact, for all its festishizing of Hayek and Burke, the GOP's core philosophy can be found in the life of Sylvia Plath. If you are middle class or below, 54 or younger and planning for retirement, the Republicans are offering a head-sized oven.

But it is a "serious" plan. Just ask Little Lukey Russert or Andrea 'Marie Antoinette' Mitchell. Why...there's charts and graphs and out year projections n' such! All the fixins for a national discussion and what not!

Sure everything the Romney campaign and its surrogates say is a demonstrable lie. But who has time to demonstrate? Not when Karl Rove has just conducted an impartial poll of the Koch Brothers for their views on regulation or Joe Biden is singing "Mammy" in blackface.

Like all Republicans Romney and Ryan worship Mammon. But it is their intense devotion to Sterculinus, the Roman god of manure spreading, that may win them the election. For teleprompters throughout the corporate media the words abject feces automatically translate to on the one hand.

And the other hand? That hand holds four more years of Geithnerism at Treasury. Four more years of homage to the Blankfein family table.

Lyssa was the Greek goddess of rage.