Mitt Romney's Human Diary w/ Daily Updates

Following the flip-flopping Etch-A-Sketch robot's daily adventures..
May 28,2012

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

As part of my campaign's ongoing plan to receive endorsement from as wide a collection of previously failed candidates as possible, thus making me look more competent by comparison, I appeared today with previously failed candidate John McCain. This time around my staff was doubly sure that the senator knew my name before the appearance, as we have had some difficulty with that in the past. Today's event was held to honor American veteran units, in the form of having them honor me. It is also a part of my crash course in foreign events, as Eric F. hopes that by associating me with veterans, some veteran-ness will rub off on me.

Sen. McCain and I were reminiscing about the war. I still remember those dark days. I was in France at the time, after being excused from military duty in order to more profitably spend my time attempting to convert France to my religion. It was a traumatic experience for me. I still remember the look on each French face as I told them that part of converting would be that they could no longer drink alcohol. At some points, I feared for my very life. (Mr. McCain listened very politely to my experiences, but did not say much.)

That is all I wish to discuss today, Mr. Diary. Remembering France is always tiring, and so I do not speak of it often

May 29th,2012

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Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney.

I am writing on you from my plane, which is currently traveling to Las Vegas in order to meet up with Donald Trump for this mutual event I apparently had agreed to. It is times like this when I momentarily forget why it is I am even in politics. Then I remember the tax cuts, and how so much of my money is currently pining for me from the Caymans, unable to return home, and my resolve returns.

There is no way this will end well. It is all I can do to praise him in public, Mr. Diary, but please note that I am not actually an idiot, and therefore find the man tiring at best. Nonetheless, my advisers keep reminding me that I need the special kind of voter units that Mr. Trump appeals to: casual racists, people with low standards when viewing television, and people who are fixated on the wealth of others as a measure of their relative moral standing. I assure them that I could quite properly appeal to all these people on my own, but they feel it is better to engage a surrogate unit.

I do admit I see the appeal of this approach. Apparently Mr. Trump is continuing to babble on about birth certificates and Kenya even now. By appearing with him, I can look like I am in favor of these opinions even while my subordinates claim that I am not. If my understandings of human behavior are correct, this will enable both sides to assure themselves I am secretly on their side.

Still, the thought that I must associate with Donald Trump depresses me greatly, Mr. Diary. No: I must remember the tax cuts.

On the bright side, I expect this evening to have my status as Republican nominee confirmed officially. It will be the commoners in Texas who give me the final delegate units necessary, which I believe is fitting, as I previously met and defeated the leader of their state in electoral combat. A nice enough fellow, to be sure, but as dumb as a post. Still, he improved the debates greatly, in that he took up space and wasted significant time that otherwise would have had to be filled by me talking.

Addendum: We have just landed in Las Vegas, and are now taxiing on the runway. Oh, God, I see the Trump plane. We are parking right next to it. I just know he is going to insist I take a tour of the thing.

May 30,2012

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Hello, human diary. It is once again I, Mitt Romney, your better.

Today my campaign released a facsimile of my certificate of live birth. This should satisfactorily resolve all questions as to my human American origins.

It also allows my supporters to continue talking about birth certificates, upon which I shall state that I see no controversy in any birth certificates, but that I am not the human boss of them and cannot stop them from opining on the subject. Speaking of that, my event with Mr. Trump last evening was simultaneously excruciating and uneventful, much like one of Mr. Trump's television programs.

As a result of the Texas primary elections yesterday, I am now confirmed as the human Republican nominee for president. This represents the farthest I have ever gotten during one of my national campaigns; I attribute this to my newfound flexibility in opinion-having. I have continued to practice having many simultaneous opinions on things, as I expect the next few months will require substantial opinion modifications, after the previous opinion modifications rendered necessary by this last primary season. I have asked my advisers to determine whether it would be better to modify all of my current opinions at once or modify them incrementally; I suspect there may be a tax advantage in modifying them all in one go?

While these questions are resolved, I have been forced to refrain from having any further opinions on things. I have now retooled all past opinions to be as generic as possible, generally centering each of them upon the statement that America is a quite satisfactory place, or would be if it were not for my opponents and their incorrect opinion-having. This seems to be working out remarkably well. It even seems that the more generic my statements become, the more satisfactory audiences find them, thus negating any burdensome need for the stating of opinions at all. I may need to explore this further. While I am not certain just how empty of meaning my own public statements can become, I feel that it is a challenge I am especially well-suited for. Indeed, when I am emphatically stating meaningless positive statements in front of a large audience, I truly feel that my campaign has finally become a well-oiled human machine.

May 31, 2012

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Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

Today has been a hectic and confusing day, Mr. Diary. Today we engaged in so many dramatic campaign battles that it reminded me of my days in Vietnam, if I had gone there, which I did not.

Our plan today was for me to speak in front of the offices of the failed Solyndra. I enjoy speaking in front of the buildings of closed companies, and so I have tried to do it often this campaign; it makes me feel at home. My campaign knew, however, that if the president were to get wind of how I was going to be speaking in front of a factory that we have declared the root of all economic evil, he would do everything in his power to stop it from happening. For this reason, we kept our visit secret. I arrived in town saying I had to use the bathroom, and that the current town had the only bathroom I felt to be the right height. Then I secured myself in the trunk of a campaign car, provided with only a juice box for sustenance. The podium we had procured for the occasion was also in the trunk with me: I dare say my staff could have put it into a separate car, if they had been thinking clearly.

Success! We arrived at the closed company without being detected by the many security forces of the president. I was able to give my short speech blaming the company for being the root of all economic evil (as they were a solar energy company, this was hardly a stretch, as the solar energy companies have been using their tremendous economic and government might to bully my friends in the oil and coal industries). Then we quickly left again, before the drones could spot us. Take that, Mr. President! Truly, we have bested you. That said, I am not clear on why I also had to ride in the same car trunk on the way back, but my advisers were insistent.

This was not the only perilous task my campaign was to undertake this fine day. Knowing that the presidential unit would likely send all his forces against me if he knew I was going to be giving a speech in front of a closed company that was the root of all economic evil, we had planned a diversionary strike. Back in that other state whose name I can never remember, members of his campaign were attempting to draw attention to my previous record as a state governor. This, as I am sure you will agree, Mr. Diary, was an abominable act. I have made it quite clear that no one is to mention my past record in government, and to have that declaration so egregiously ignored: No, we could not let that stand.

We therefore dispatched a team of staffers to the event in order to shout at them quite rudely, thus showing them who is boss. Upon the suggestion of one particularly crafty staffer, we instructed the staff to attempt to blow bubbles during the event. Our reasoning was simple, but brilliant. Humans like shiny things, so all that would be needed to end all forbidden talk of my record as a state governor was to show them shiny things during the offending presentation. At first we were merely going to jingle keys in front of the audience, entrancing them, but the bubble idea was instantly recognized as superior, as there was the additional possibility that the opposing speakers would get bubble juice in their eyes, thus disabling them.

As final touch, we instructed our staff to declare that the reason for our staff doing these things is that our opponent's campaign had done them first. This was not strictly true, but we have found most reporter units to be of exceedingly low intellectual height. I also have no doubt that if the president had discovered I was going to give a speech in front of a closed company that was the root of all economic evil today, he would have assuredly sent individuals to blow bubbles at me, thus requiring me to take these actions first. As explained to me by my ex-Bush advisers, this is known as a "preemptive" engagement, and is considered the height of something they refer to as "strategery." They are quite clever people, although they often tend to be a little too insulting to France for my tastes. I look forward to firing several of them.

Unfortunately, not all battles went in our favor today. I learned from my staff that the newest ad by Karl Rove, an ally, mentioned the wrong closed company when attacking closed companies on my behalf. He meant to attack a closed company supported by my opponent; instead, the advertisement incorrectly attacked a closed company that I myself had supported. This was tremendously awkward, and is yet another example of the undue burden placed on my campaign by the artificial wall between myself and my allied Super PAC units.

June 1,2012
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ello, human diary. It is once again I, Mitt Romney, your better.

I have been thinking much today about the old days, before my current human opponent won the presidency. Ah, those were the days. After much effort, my Republican predecessor had finally achieved success. The economy had been cut to the right height. The captains of my own industry were benefitting both from new taxes that were the right height and government programs to provide their companies with free monies to replace any monies they had accidentally misplaced. Firings, a particular favorite of mine, were commonplace. I used to sit in my car outside closing companies and smile happily, counting the departing workers as they filed past. (I often pretended I had fired them myself, Mr. Diary. I have not been able to fire nearly as many humans as I once did, now that I am in politics.)

It was not until 2009 that things began to go sour again. Within six months the firings had begun to go down. There was talk (vanquished, thankfully), of making taxes upon many of my comrades—some of whom own sporting teams of various natures—incorrect heights once again. A plot was hatched within the confines of the government to lower the rate of firings even further; make no mistake, Mr. Diary, the whole thing was deliberate. We had finally achieved a labor force that was of the right height, a deficit that was of the right height, and even had procured two ancillary countries on which to perform further experiments in making things the right height, only to see the trend cruelly reversed. No, 2007 and 2008 were fine years. It was in 2009 that things began to turn foul again.

I believe I was thinking of these times as a result of viewing coverage of my Republican predecessor celebrate the great honor of having his commissioned portrait unveiled at my likely future home, the White House. I had honestly forgotten the fellow had existed. It often seems like all of human history began in the year 2009. I have to remind myself that I was previously governor of a state, and that the current presidential unit was preceded by previous presidential units. I often envy my old competitor and current shoe boy, Newt Gingrich, who is a historian of some kind. He is able to remember a wide variety of years.

Nonetheless, I am now re-energized. Remembering those fine days of the last Republican presidency have given me a new focus towards assisting the nation in returning to them. I am not certain if I will be able to accomplish reducing or increasing the height of things quite as dramatically as that fellow was able to, but I have collected many of his assistant units from that time, and have instructed them to teach me all they know.

June 6th
Hello again, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

My apologies for not putting words into you these last few days, Mr. Diary. As it turns out, I have been astonishingly busy. This election has proven to be rather more work than I had previously anticipated, and seems to get worse by the day.

Having an opinion on the events in Wisconsin has proven very taxing. This is primarily because I was not fully certain what my opinion would be until after the results were known; now that the results are known, I can say with confidence that I am fully for that thing that was decided, and I congratulate my good friend Scoot Walken for his role in that thing. The state of Wisconsin may have conspicuously flawed average tree height, but I still approve of them and of Scoot in the most generic way possible. I hear they like cheese there. I believe I also like cheese. We are much alike!

Whatever the case, I am especially satisfied with these Wisconsin results because they have national implications for my campaign. In specific, these results demonstrate that driving trailer trucks full of money into a state can, indeed, still achieve satisfactory electoral results. This is a definite relief to me, as my entire campaign strategy has revolved around the strategic placement of enormous amounts of money, and there has been recent controversy as to the possible efficacy of that approach. If the quantities of money that had been utilized in Wisconsin had not had as advantageous an effect as expected, things would have been very dire indeed.

So fear not, dear money: Your voice will definitely still be heard. I have always vowed that I would not want to live in a nation that did not treat each hundred dollar bill as a special little snowflake, easily the political and rhetorical equal of any fleshy human, but there happily seems no hint of danger that these money-Americans will be silenced in the near future.

I have also been quite busy in retooling my campaign speeches and literature in order to better reflect the requirements of the general election. I have had to spend some time supervising an ever-expanding staff of humans that we have engaged in order to tell me what my current opinions are, and how best to avoid discussing those opinions. It has come to our attention that many of our campaign talking points could be made far more generic: I feel especially sheepish about this, Mr. Diary, as I have taken great pride in my own abilities with regards to stating things as generically as possible. Alas, it seems the primaries had the unfortunate effect of letting a few less generic opinions slide into our campaign rhetoric; we intend to purge these slightly specific elements as quickly as possible.

That is all for now, Mr. Diary. Generically yours,
Mitt

June-9-2012

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Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

Reporters have apparently been querying, Mr. Diary, about other instances of youthful indiscretion I may have engaged in during the time I was an indiscreet youth. This time it was about an incident in which I showed my college chums a Michigan State Trooper uniform that I had procured from my father, during the time he was governor and I was an indiscreet youth, and which I used in order to make random traffic stops on the roads of Michigan during those times that I was feeling particularly irritated with the commoner units for their various insufficiencies. (I had also procured a flashing red light to affix to my beloved Rambler, thus better completing the impression of law enforcement officer.)

My staff seems to be worried about this revelation. I am not sure why; I merely did what any respectable son of a wealthy and powerful man might do, which is to use his power and influence to place myself in positions of power over others, whether that power was deserved or not. I think I would have been more foolish as a wealthy teen to not dress up in a State Trooper uniform procured by my powerful father in order to pull drivers over and reprimand them about their driving habits or the incorrect heights of their cars.

Indeed, I have tried my best to fulfill that same role throughout my life—that is, to use my wealth and my parent's political stature to place myself in positions of authority over others, as is appropriate of youth within all respectable circles of wealth and political power. It has not always worked out to my satisfaction, since elections are irritatingly complicated things, but I consider it a point of pride that I have been so rigorous in my attempts at it. Whether it be pulling motorists over by pretending to be an officer of the law or requiring my less wealthy school chums to wear their hair the correct length, my efforts to assist commoners and other less fortunate units by imparting to them my own wisdom and decision-making capabilities was instilled in me, I am proud to say, at an early age.

Nevertheless, my advisers unanimously feel this is a subject that should not be discussed further. Eric F. has forbidden me from mentioning it during the campaign. It is confusing, as I thought my staff would be quite pleased about the anecdote; if nothing else it shows an impressive amount of creativity and initiative-taking, since as you well know, Mr. Diary, there were few other opportunities for a young American man in the 1960s to put on a uniform.

http://www.dailykos.com/story/2012/06/09/1098623/-The-Chronicles-of-Mitt-June-9-2012?detail=hide

June 12

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Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

Today I talked with radio unit Neil Boortz. He asked me what I believe he thought to be an intriguing question, which is whether or not I, as a person of fantastic wealth, would forego the usual salary of $400,000 a year if I were to become president. I do not think he understands that one does not become an individual of fantastic wealth by turning down $400,000 a year, but in any event I was prepared for the question, which I of course skirted, giving him instead the pre-prepared campaign answer:

“I do believe in linking my incentives and my commitment to the accomplishments of specific goals and I think that’s true. I wish we had that throughout government, where people recognize that they are not going to get rewarded in substantial ways unless they are able to achieve the objectives they were elected to carry out.”

I am quite proud of that answer, which is why I have committed it to memory. I have been thinking quite a bit about how to run government more like, say, a hedge fund or other Wall Street firm, as befitting my own expertise and experiences, and I think that incentivizing government workers (including the presidency) would go a long way towards accomplishing this. Specifically, this means implementing a bonus structure for members of my administration.

Suppose I was to become president, and were to give myself an annual performance review. If I deemed that I had not been effective in the previous year, I would give myself a salary of $400,000, but perhaps a bonus of only three or four million additional dollars. If I deemed that I had been a very effective president, on the other hand, I would give myself the salary of $400,000 plus a much deserved, much larger bonus—say, the state of Florida.

This system would seem the most logical way to incentivize accomplishments and objectives for presidents and other top level government officials; it certainly has resulted in great financial successes for the companies of Wall Street. We will be doing a dramatic downsizing of various government departments if I become president, so paying large cash bonuses to those cabinet members who fire the largest number of workers seems by far the most effective system for that downsizing.

June 13

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

On the campaign trail I recently had the opportunity to meet a very tall man. I asked him if he was in sport, as I assumed a tall fellow would be quite likely to engage in sport. Surprisingly, he said he was not in sport, but it was a good exchange between the two of us. I am beginning to quite enjoy my campaign banter with commoner units.

If you will excuse me now, Mr. Diary, I am feeling a bit hungry. I have recently developed a craving for chocolate-topped toroids of fried dough, which I have asked the staff to go procure for me. I enjoy the shape, because it reminds me of my ideal tax rate for high-income earners.

June 25th

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Hello human diary, Mitt here.

I must make this quick, Mr. Diary, because today I am in hiding. Or more accurately, I am on my campaign aircraft, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible, with a phalanx of staffers acting as the only things standing between me and a horde of hostile reporter units. It is just like that one movie, but on an aircraft.

The Supreme Court has issued a ruling on an immigration matter, and until my staff has determined what my opinion on the issue is, I am not allowed to comment on it or, indeed, to say anything at all. Given past history this may take anywhere from hours to weeks. The last time they put me in sequestration, my staff forgot to feed me; this time I hope there will be no similar complications. We are on our way to a fundraiser, and the current discussion is whether I should still appear there, but feign laryngitis, or whether we can avoid the event entirely by claiming a more important commitment. There is the possibility that I can claim to be in an important secret meeting with foreign monarchs; this seems to have worked well for Sen. Scott Brown.

We were not prepared for this. We knew the court would be ruling on health care issues, but nobody on my campaign staff was aware that they would be issuing decisions on other cases during this same term. I and my staff had naturally assumed that it was just the one. Is it usual for more than one opinion to be announced during a given year? I am not sure how any individual could maintain such a brisk decision-making pace.

I must go now, Mr. Diary. Rick has been holding these reporters off for about 10 minutes now, but I do not think it will last much longer. I am going to hide in the lavatory. If any reporter units ask, I will say that I may or may not be having explosive intestinal problems, and to please come back later when my staff has determined whether or not I am having them.

P.S. Eric F. is shouting now, saying we will have to have at least some opinion once this aircraft lands and we must depart for the fundraiser. It is one thing to ignore reporters, he says, but it will be a cold day in hell before this campaign ignores people trying to give us money. This is a bit exciting, Mr. Diary: I wonder what my opinion will turn out to be.

June 26th

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

Yesterday went better than expected. I was able to memorize one or two sentences regarding immigration and how the Supreme Court decision in the matter was not of the correct latitude and/or longitude. As there were no questions allowed, I did not have to elaborate further. To be safe, however, we have continued to reiterate to reporter units that we will be stating no further opinions and that if they continue to ask about this topic we shall erase all of their hard drives.

Nonetheless, this experience has convinced my staff and I of the importance of delivering a response to the upcoming Supreme Court health care decision in an expeditious manner. We are certain we can prepare a statement that will work regardless of the actual decision handed down; this is necessary because the time it would take to determine a separate opinion for each eventuality would be far beyond our ability to calculate. So far, we have decided on:

This Supreme Court decision shows that Barack Obama

This is a good start. After determining this much, my staff and I decided to pause for a few days before completing the rest. It is always important, when determining opinions, to not rush things.

There is also the matter of the health care policies I myself helped to implement in Massachusetts during the time I spent as a governor unit there. They are much the same as the current rules being decided by the court, with minor exceptions such as my own plan including abortion coverage. I believe that plan is in no danger, however, as it was supported by a Republican politician and therefore clearly Constitutional. The currently controversial plan was supported by a Democratic politician, and therefore clearly not Constitutional. Honestly, for all the grumbling Constitutional scholars do about the nuances of law, I have yet to meet a fellow Republican unit who did not immediately grasp this concept.

Given how simple these questions boil down to being, in fact, the Supreme Court seems the sort of thing that could easily be offshored to workers in India or another nation, thus allowing us to sell off the current building for a bit of extra cash. Aside from a few individuals in the Fox News graphic department (bless Rupert's heart, the fellow has a soft spot for hiring individuals too dumb to otherwise gain employment) nearly anyone can simply check whether the proponent of a given government action is a Democrat or a Republican.

This leadership business does not seem too difficult, Mr. Diary. Meet with wealthy investors; honk your horn at commoners; determine which things are properly dimensioned and which are not, according to who is in support of them—I believe I have the knack of things now. My staff assures me that there will be no further things in the nation that I will need to express an opinion on after this one, so I believe the campaign shall be a bit smoother from now on

June 28

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

Things happened today. I don't want to talk about it.

July 2nd

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

These last days have been extremely tiring. Ever since the Supreme Court decided that the current healthcare law indeed passed constitutional muster, things have been confusing, at best. Our campaign has not quite decided what to do with the information, although we remain certain we disapprove of it. In the meantime I have taken respite in my beachfront vacation home (not the California one, but the other one).

The problem is that I am, to use a term Eric F. explained to me, happysad. I am happy because the healthcare plan that I myself proposed, endorsed, implemented, and repeatedly endorsed again has received approval from the highest court in the land, which means it was good. But I am sad because that approval was technically granted to another version of that plan, one endorsed by Democrats, which means it is now bad. Trying to draw the line between the two—which plan is good, and which plan is bad—continues to be quite difficult. It seems reporter units are not entirely satisfied with the simple notion that the bad one is the one my opponent did, because he is my opponent and he is bad. I instructed my staff to explain to them further that my plan was good because I am not my opponent, and since he is bad I must by definition be good, but they reported back with unsatisfactory results. While we sort this out, we have largely decided to not say things anymore, on any subject.

I am not sure if it is the court ruling, the water here or the fumes of the jet-propelled water vehicle, but I have certainly noticed a decrease in my operational capacities. The additional weekend leap second was no help, and yet another example of how scientists are inherently biased against severe conservatives like myself.

On the other hand, it may be all others whose operational capacities are incorrect? After all, I can clearly determine which healthcare plans are good and bad, so if others are perceiving more complexities it is just as likely that they are the ones in error. Often elevators can have the right answer, in terms of adjusting tree height, but I do not know now if haircuts can meet my commitment to cheesy grits and pastries of dubious origin. All of these should be left up to the states, except for the tree dimensions. Clearly, though, if one health insurance mandate is from 7-11, and the other is not, then is it not obvious which one I should pick as my Vice Presidential unit? All these podiums have been of incorrect heights, through this entire campaign. Each of them should have been one quarter inch higher. And I am tired of pretending to like Donald Trump.

I am not feeling well, Mr. Diary. I am going to lie down for a while. I suppose each political campaign has bad weeks, and I suppose my campaigns have tended to have more bad weeks than could seemingly be explained by random chance. I am only glad that this week is of slightly smaller portion than most weeks, due to the holiday.

July 10

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

Over the weekend I attended a fundraiser in the Hamptons. It was strictly for units of great wealth, or as I call them, my base, ha ha. (The last Republican president came up with that line. Or maybe it was the one before that? No, perhaps the one before that. I think it certainly applies more to me more than any of the rest of them, however.)

The discussions there were quite informative. Of prime concern to the wealth units was the difficulty of explaining to the commoner class that despite commoner insistence to the contrary, commoners are being severely harmed by the actions of this president, and so we need to return to the policies of the president before that one. Those were halcyon days, were they not? Yes, there was some difficulty with the economy, but it hardly dented the people who truly matter. Yes, there was a severe decline in the markets, but it was easily ridden out by any unit of extraordinary wealth, and the bonuses to units of impressive but not extraordinary wealth continued with almost no notable exceptions.

One female wealth unit was especially vocal on this point. She mentioned that among the lower class units she occasionally is forced to interact with, such as manicurists, pet grooming professionals and the cleaning staff, there was universally very little knowledge of just how cruel and harmful the current president is. He has threatened, albeit unsuccessfully, to reduce the generous tax cuts given in the last decade to units of great wealth. He has crassly suggested altering the depreciation schedule for private aircraft. He wishes to hobble the spiritual richness of investment banking with regulations against doing certain things, simply because they have been proven to have sometimes-catastrophic consequences. Do commoner units truly care about none of these things?

If that is the case, I am unsure as how to reach them. Fortunately, I do not have to. The job of reaching the commoner class is a task best left to Karl Rove and the rest of the Super-PAC units; all I need deal with on a daily basis are the wealth units, with token excursions into the lands of the commoners so as to improve their ability to recognize me.

Speaking of which, tomorrow I shall be speaking to the NAACP. I believe it is Herman Cain's group? Nevertheless, there will apparently be commoner units present, so I shall have to practice my skills once again. Eric F. has made a point of saying that I am absolutely not to deviate from my teleprompter-scripted remarks on this one. He was quite insistent on the point. I am sure, however, that I will do well. The National Association for the Advancement of Corporate People sounds like a very pleasant and receptive audience, and I am at least sure that they will understand the importance of reducing taxes and corporate regulations. I am looking forward to it.

July 13

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

The questions about my tenure at Bain, specifically about the period of time I was not at Bain but still in charge of it, except when I was not in charge of it, depending on who is asking, have continued to mount. We briefly tried to convince reporter units to choose a different topic of discussion by announcing that it was possible that we were not going to be choosing a boring white male as my vice presidential unit after all, but nobody truly believed that we would really choose someone who was not a boring white male, so it was a bit of a dud.

In an effort to give this story the best possible haircut, we therefore decided that I would be breaking my famous media silence and granting interviews to reporter units from each major network so that I can give them my version of events. These interviews accomplished, I cannot wait to watch the television device tonight to find out what I said.

July 17

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Hello again, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

This really is no fun anymore. I do believe these people are serious in their insistence on wanting to know more details about how I made my vast fortune. We have sent out surrogate units to respond by suggesting that the president is acting insufficiently American, since questioning wealth is one of the least American things we can imagine, but so far the results are quite mixed. Even some of the units on my own side have been not on my side.

If questioning the national authenticity of the president is insufficient, and if threatening to perhaps make that Sarah Palin person our vice presidential nominee if everyone does not immediately silence themselves is insufficient, and if asserting that whatever may have happened during those irritating years retroactively did not happen after all is also insufficient, I am at a loss as to what our campaign should do next. While I am surprised myself to be saying it, Mr. Diary, this now seems above the level that merely blowing bubbles or honking bus horns can deal with. It does not even seem the sort of thing that the Super PACs can help with, although perhaps they will surprise me.

All I can do is keep reminding the commoner units that I, as a unit of great wealth, understand what it is like to want money very badly, and that they should therefore vote for me as the American thing to do. Surely, we are not so cruel a nation as to truly subject a wealth unit to the same scrutiny that other, less wealthy candidates are given. Even imagining such a thing is frightening.

July 31

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

Today I was in Poland. I complimented them by saying that I wished America could be more like them, except for the unions and big government parts. My staff apparently got into a small donnybrook with the press units, who did not understand that I had taken all three of this tour's planned reporter questions back in London and would therefore not be answering any others.

We chose Poland as our final nation for this tour because it is close to Russia, thus counting for at least double the foreign policy experience that nations at farther distances would provide. It is definitely an unnerving experience, however. All the people in this portion of Europe have strange names, and all the words here are too long. I believe Eastern Europe could increase their economic vitality by at least 20 percent if they had a culture of using shorter words for things.

The trip is mostly done with now. I am looking forward to being back at home, though I have not decided which one I will be visiting first. I have been missing my bus as well, and have asked the staff if there might be a possibility of further bus-related events in the future.

Regardless, this trip was definitely a triumph, Mr. Diary. A huge success—it is quite difficult to overstate my satisfaction.

Aug 9

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

Outrage over my press secretary's suggestion that a law I once passed may have been of benefit to sick people continues to grow. We are receiving condemnations from all quarters. I have been told that a Fox News guest was so agitated over the gaffe that they nearly died, right there in the studio. I am not entirely sure what is going on, but none of these people seemed to know about my Massachusetts law until the moment my press unit mentioned it, even though I personally quite clearly remember it coming up repeatedly before. Or, perhaps, they just did not realize that the law might have provided actual assistance to someone? By and large these are very stupid people, so it is sometimes difficult to ascertain what they are going on about.

Regardless, we have still not decided how to respond to these accusations that I once tried to provide help to sick people. Our latest idea for quelling party outrage is to promise to introduce a bill allowing all sick people to be immediately fired, thus combining the required cruelty towards sick people with the uproariousness of firing people. The idea has promise, but my staff believes such a bill has already been introduced, possibly by Rand Paul(?), and that it therefore may not be original enough.

In more positive news, my foreign policy training has continued apace. With the help of that Bolton fellow I am now able to inject insults towards other nations into nearly any given conversation. He may be an exceedingly odd person, but I continue to be impressed by his encyclopedic knowledge as to how the various other nations of the world should best be ridiculed.

Aug 10

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

Tomorrow I will be on a bus! I cannot wait to see my old friend, Mr. Bus, again. This will be a four day tour of Virginia, North Carolina, Florida and Ohio. They have not told me yet how we will be making the trip from Florida to Ohio in only one day and, even more impressively, without passing through any other states, but I can only assume they have installed some wonderful new gadgets on Mr. Bus that allow such things.

Today I visited an Iowa farmer in yet another attempt to bond with the American common folk. I had no idea what farm life was like, but as soon as I arrived, the place felt comfortable and familiar to me. Farmers live in large, disk-shaped towers with panoramic views of the surrounding landscape, have underground washing bays for their personal vehicles, and own convention centers as their side businesses. I can see now why farmers are always described as such hard workers. If these drought conditions continue, farmers will be forced to rely solely on their convention centers for revenue.

We have decided to respond to the crisis caused by my press secretary claiming a law I once passed may have benefitted sick commoners by ignoring it, for now. I have also taken this opportunity to chide the opposing campaign for supporting such scurrilous attacks as to cause my press secretary to claim I once passed laws benefiting sick commoners, and to ask them to behave more like my own, more dignified surrogates—like Donald Trump. My opponent has been using far too many non-wealthy people as surrogates, which is an outrageous way for a campaign to behave.

Still no decision on a vice presidential unit. We have been encouraging the press to write glowing things about how we might perhaps be considering that Paul Ryan person for the position; hopefully, this will somewhat mollify the fellow when we do not pick him, as we most certainly will not if I have any say in the matter. I do not think politics is going to work out well for him in the long run. Perhaps I will encourage him to become a farmer? Living in a disk-shaped house with panoramic views of your owned property, just like the American pioneers of old, seems a pleasant, though austere, life.

Aug 13

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Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

Much has happened in the last few days. We have finally announced my choice for vice presidential unit, and it turns out it is that Paul Ryan fellow. Looking up, I see that I noted in my last diary entry that we would certainly not be choosing Paul Ryan for the position if I had any say in it. It turns out that I did not have much say in it, but let me now explain why it was my idea from the beginning.

As you know, Mr. Diary, our campaign has been rocked by scandal in recent days. My press secretary made the gaffe of noting that a law I once endorsed may have provided assistance to sick people. This was disastrous, since providing assistance to sick people goes against the very core principles of my party—there has been a large amount of public drama over this very point, in the last few years.

While our efforts to contain the scandal were admirable, they had little effect. On Friday we came to the conclusion that the only way to demonstrate that I was no longer a candidate who would tolerate providing assistance to sick people was to choose a vice presidential unit who could not possibly be accused of wanting to provide assistance to anyone, ever. Paul Ryan became the obvious choice.

In hindsight he is not as objectionable as I had previously supposed. He has a less objectionable odor than many of the other candidates, and while he is severely poor he conducts himself with an air of self-entitlement worthy of any wealth unit. His hair is the right length. It was only when discussing financial matters with him, however, in a quiet room I have dedicated for the discussion of financial matters, that I began to see that he shared many of my own core values. Like myself, he believes I should pay little to no taxes. He shares my conviction that budget calculations should not be discussed publicly, because there are many complicated parts that commoners would not understand. I believe he has opinions on other things as well. Primarily, however, he believes I should pay little to no taxes, and he has some truly innovative proposals on how to best retrieve monies from the commoners, who primarily squander it on things like sustenance and medical care, and redirect it towards wealth units who can put it to more satisfactory use.

Having spent several days with him at this point, I cannot say that I am entirely satisfied with the choice. I do not like the thought of sharing my bus with him, and so I expressed to my advisers that while this choice was entirely my idea, he would have to obtain his own bus, and that at the very least I would certainly not allow him to accompany me on the current Florida trip. We have therefore left him in some other state, somewhere up north, with instructions that I will contact him again when necessary.

With all the recent commotion, I have not even been able to enjoy riding on Mr. Bus again. I was obliged to answer questions posed by reporters today, which I had thought we had previously agreed I would no longer be doing. The trees in this state are of irritating shapes and sizes. Donald Trump continues to telephone me in attempts to give me advice. While I consider myself quite robust, I did demand that we cancel an event in one of the lesser cities of Florida today; there is only so much of this nonsense I am able to take.

In the end, however, I am determined to see this ridiculous process through. I have a vision, Mr. Diary, of a better nation. I dream of a new America in which all citizens, whether they be wealthy or commoners, whether they be investment bankers or owners of teams related to sport, whether they be white, or slightly off-white, perhaps due to tanning during a recent vacation, possibly while engaging in watersport—a nation in which all individuals, no matter who they may be or how many houses they may own, can come together and agree as Americans that I, Mitt Romney, should pay little to no taxes.

Aug 21

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Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

Today nothing happened. Not a single thing, in fact. And by not a single thing, I mean obviously certain things happened, but all of them were so unimportant as to have effectively not happened, or retroactively not happened, or perhaps future-actively not happened. I have not decided yet.

Today I called on that Akin fellow to stop running for office. I am not sure why, but my advisers said it was a good idea, and that as the new leader of my party I am obligated to do such things. I think they are just attempting to instill a little fear into my vice presidential unit, who has been reminded yet again that he needs to avoid saying similar things.

I was going to reveal parts of my new energy policy at a fundraiser today, but it turns out that there were reporters there so I did not. Also, I am not yet sure what my new energy policy is.

That is all for now. The last few days have been the most satisfying since the days of the primaries, when I could relax for days on end while one or more of my fellow candidate units attempted to extract themselves from various self-made predicaments. There is probably a downside to all of this that I am not considering, but for the most part I am reminded yet again of the many advantages of being in a party with such an ample supply of morons.

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Aug 27th

Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

I nearly decided to call off writing today, Mr. Diary, because of this dreadful Florida weather. Ultimately, however, Eric F. pointed out that we were inside, and that we were in fact not in Florida, but New Hampshire.

I was obligated to explain to another reporter today that my reference to birth certificates was an uproarious joke, and that by joking I have further proved my human spontaneousness. Birth certificates are naturally humorous references.

Other than that, I have continuing to prepare for the convention. Ann and I are each working on speeches that convey my human nature of humanness. Today was to be the day the party voted to elect me as their natural leader, but as the first day of the convention has been canceled due to storm, it will have to wait until tomorrow. (We may cancel the voting tomorrow as well because voting on things is exceedingly dull, and takes time away from videotaped presentations as to my superiority.) The convention stage is, I am told, quite impressive, and includes large television screens on which we can project as many as 13 separate videotaped presentations as to my superiority at one time. Our campaign research has indicated that there are few things as patriotic as being able to watch multiple television screens at one time. When they are not being used for videotaped presentations as to my superiority, I believe we will use most of them to show flags.

The Chronicles of Mitt: Sept 18, 2012

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Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney, your better.

Much has happened. The staff is currently locked in heated discussion as to whether or not to announce that I am suffering from a terrible episode of laryngitis, thus rendering me unable to speak until perhaps after the election. Eric F. feels this is too extreme, and perhaps we should say I have merely been drunk for the past few months, but am fine now. After an hour or so of this I fled the room, telling the staff to get back to me with their recommendations when they have some. That was some time ago, so there still seems to be no resolution.

I am not sure what precisely the current issue is, but it seems to revolve around one of my many meetings with fellow wealth units. I was explaining the difficulties of promoting my policies vis-a-vis lowering taxes on wealthy Americans, and happened to mention that most commoners were lazy slackabouts who hardly earned any money at all, and who were therefore ignorant of the plight of the wealthy. I do not believe any of this is new information.

Suddenly, however, the press is very interested in my theories as to the inherent laziness of the poor. I am not sure why, but is this not a good thing? We have continually labored to explain these things to the press, and now that the press has finally taken interest in them, now my advisers are expressing concern? Should we not be taking this opportunity to further highlight my messages as to how our nation oppresses its most wealthy, and coddles the poor? I will never understand campaign politics, that is for certain.

There is much more to write about, but for now I should probably check on my staff. Things have gotten quieter now, which either means that they are nearing a satisfactory conclusion or, possibly, that Eric F. has once again beaten recalcitrant staff members with a chair. That fellow tries my patience at times—I am not made of chairs, Eric. Those things cost money.

The Chronicles of Mitt: Sept 19, 2012

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

I honestly do not know what these people are going on about. I merely observed that approximately one half of the nation was made up of slackers and ne'er do wells, dull and lazy persons who would never amount to anything but who nonetheless are allowed to vote as if they were productive human beings. This is common conversation during every dinner party I have ever attended, so what, precisely, is the difficulty this time around?

Politics continues to confound me.

The Chronicles of Mitt: Sept 21, 2012

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Hello, human diary. It is I again, Mitt Romney, your better.

I believe today we have gotten things back on track. Mini-Mitt has been dispatched to the AARP convention, under the presumption that senior citizens are the nicest and most polite people on this earth, therefore making it an unlikely place for the vice presidential unit to foul up. We released my current year of tax returns to the public, allowing them to immerse themselves in my great wealth, if only from afar. Afterwards, we are going to Las Vegas.

We decided to dispense with the more troublesome tax routines as well. I did not release them, as I do not believe the commoners should immerse themselves quite that much in the wealth of their betters, but I had the fellows at the accounting firm provide a certified note declaring that I have been quite wealthy during the entire time in question, and that as far as they are aware I have partaken in no criminal acts against the tax code, at least none of any consequence. That should end the matter nicely.

Also provided to the commoners: a notation of my excellent health, provided by a doctor. I have also suggested to the staff that we provide recent tune-up reports on all the family cars, as I find the character of a man can best be judged by the amount of money he is willing to spend on caring for his automobiles.