Bring a Knife to a Fist Fight: Or The Week Newt Gingrich Might’ve Won The GOP Nomination
Right about now, Willard Mitt Romney is sitting on the toilet in a suite at the Charleston Place Hotel, his ass ablaze from a merciless stream of diarhea most likely caused by the fried flounder he had enjoyed earlier that evening at Hyman’s Seafood.
Like the thousands of other gullible tourists driving into Charleston on I-26, he and his Mormon handlers were clearly fooled by the many strategically-placed billboards boasting an over 13 year-old endorsement: “VOTED #1 Seafood Restaurant in the SouthEast by Southern Living Magazine” — Pretty convincing. Then, once you finally arrive in Charleston, and see the over-flow crowds outside the restaurant lining Meeting Street, you become convinced: “This must be the ticket.” But as soon as you sit down for your meal and get a glance at the over-rated gruel the waitress is delivering to the table next to you, it’s like that ever-important moment of realization present in every David Mamet film: You’ve just been had in an elaborately-planned con.
As Willard’s sphincter contracts yet again, his body purging the last bit of sub-par low-country fare from his otherwise pure body, he is not only contemplating this culinary con-job to which he was just subjected but also his worst campaign week yet. The irony of this is that Mitt Romney is very much the “Hyman’s Seafood” candidate in this GOP South Carolina primary race: an over-rated fallacy that looks good on a billboard with a MASSIVE advertising budget showing-off antiquated endorsements, something that attracts the tourists but doesn’t fool the locals.
