Okay. So I friggin' lost in Iowa. Sure, I curled up in the fetal position and cried like an Oprah Winfrey guest for a little while. But twelve or thirteen hours later I climbed up out of my hole and I got over it. I was ready to put on my plastic grimace that passes for a smile and force myself to go rub elbows with these backwoods voters of New Hampshire ("Live Free or Die," they say. I say go ahead and die. The country will be better off without you).
But then holy mother of Jesus! I read the NY Times this morning, and I see that they're sticking a red hot poker up my ass! (How's THAT for a mental image?) They claim that one of my so-called advisers told them that I have a "personality deficit" compared to Obama. Well I can tell you one thing. I'm going to ferret out whoever the rat-bastard was that said that and cut off his nuts. I'll keep them in the same little box that I've kept Bill's in ever since that Monica thing. And as for the NYT writers, Patrick Healy and John Broder? Well, they better watch each others' backsides. I know what to do with a red hot poker too. And I thought that liberal rag was in MY corner.
Well, I don't need them. My plot to take over the country and turn it socialist won't be stopped by a goddamn newspaper. Come to think of it, I'll make sure that my health care for everyone plan excludes anyone that works for the Times.
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