In a strange footnote to history,
Mr Bus himself has divulged
the campaign’s final playlist.
It was left on a forgotten iPod nano
found tucked under a pair of panties
wadded in the Bus' center console
below a stack of the Book of Mormon.
(Appologies, I'm not sure how those pluralize)
The item of intimate apparel,
which released a bouquet not unattractive to some,
bore this parting message in ruby red lipstick
across their ample seating surface:
‘Mitt, give these to Dan Senor, he’ll know what to do with them.
Regards, Sandy Beach from Boca Raton.’
Song #1
Broken Hearted Savior
by Big Head Todd and the Monsters
http://www.youtube.com/...
… Highway still cold and wet and I can’t forget
the way I had to leave her…
Pick up your hymnal and join in for the last verse and chorus
but just remember 'It's hard:'
“And every heavy night takes out
a little life that's left within her;
Every man who gives her love, she takes it,
and leaves her with a dinner;
Our love was once a flame,
now I'm just a forgotten name,
Am I the only one to blame
for having loved her?
And I love her yet,
though she has done me wrong;
And I'll bring her back,
though she has been long gone;
And I'll always be her
broken hearted savior.”
Oncet upon a time there was a wee lad who had three things that grew:
a shitload of dimes that was never quite the right height,
delusions of grandeur and a crush on Lady Liberty.
He was, however, sans clue about fuck-all else
and despite all the thinks he could think
he still had plenty of space for clues eight years later.
Then he had a sad.
Maybe this will make-um feel better,
our sad little Mittens
who proved to be nothing special
just one more of Fate's
runny nosed buttfucks.
More Noise beneath that orange thing there.
You’d think a belief system that eschewed all that Mittens’ does
would shun fantasy themed amusement parks
but then again if that’s where winners go
and he’s seen there,
what does that say about him?
Somehow we can still hear The Willard’s voice
echoing up from his own personal Grand Canyon,
singing this as he’s riding down the Matterhorn
in the Mommy Lederhosen that Angela Merkel gave him:
Song #2
Dizz Knee Land by Dada
http://www.youtube.com/...
Though I think what The Willard sings at the 0:58 mark is:
“I’ve just flipped off President O,
I’m going to Dizz-knee-land!”
Despite all the negative’s heaped on him by his own party
and all the vomit spewed forth on his behalf during the campaign
none of it was ever enough of a distraction
from the way that at every unscripted opportunity
he submerged his head in deeper in where the sun don’t shine.
In fact he should make DSM V as the classic case study for
Intellectual Challenge: Cognitive Dissonance: Asshat.
This diagnosis could potentially yield a drug-able target
if he acted quickly to secure a use patent. Now there's a thing
The Willard could exploit at the expense of decades of pharmaceutical failure,
raising his shitload of dimes to an ever more smugly satisfying level.
However, a good swift kick is the only known cure
for a case of asshattedness that severe.
Either this dislodges the cranial computer
from its rectal storage space or it pushes it deeper in.
I wouldn’t put money on The Willard ever pulling it out though.
The wonderful thing about Hunter’s 'The Chronicles of Mitt' series
was the almost lyrical understatement
and the gormless disconnect confided nightly to the page
that was a more compelling explanation of those things
he did and said outside his campaign’s script
than any of those his campaign flacks
ever spun for him retroactively.
I don’t doubt that the maggot of The Willard's homophobic inner bully
metamorphosized into the mature vulture capitalist he became.
His Quixotic quest for the presidency
surely was a combination of megalomania and messianic delusion.
I know that deep inside he is not robotic, as others have opined,
but sense that Mittens is filled with the same squishy stuff you and I are made of.
We should all get over ourselves, it has been suggested,
and I believe we would do well to heed this humble advice.
I’m sure there were moments
when Mittens tasted the flop sweat
and questioned 'Why in the good Smith’s name,'
his Deity might be forsaking him?
In one such moment I imagine Mittens might have borrowed
the words and music of his Detroit Metro homeboy Bob Seger
and made them his own, changing ‘Turn the page to ‘Burn the page’.
But every morning after he never seemed
to hold onto any epiphanies about himself
that the previous night’s troubled sleep
might have brought him.
Song #3
I think the last song I think he heard on Mr Bus was Seger’s
Coming Home
http://www.youtube.com/...
as he filled it up with gas himself at the La Jolla Gas n’ Go,
a pocket full of pizzle-sticks in his pocket
in case any hungry papperazzo happened by.
No need to change the lyrics on the last verse:
“You’ll just tell them what you want to hear
How you took the place by storm
You won’t tell them how you lost it all
You’ll just say you’re coming home.”
Human after-all, though not a particularly praiseworthy one.
But Mr Bus held back a Bonus Track
The Illiad by Ed Sanders.
http://www.youtube.com/...
Because in the end even the big black rolling dorm room
wanted to know the answer to the one question
that The Willard never dignified with more than a smirk:
“Oh, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
why did you beat up that Queer?”