Robert Brenner's Open Salon Blog

Fifty Shades of Mitt Romney

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 07:04:44 -0400

America was feeling strangely dissatisfied. She worried that her best years were behind her, that she was a nation in decline. Other countries -- India, China, even that slut Brazil -- were starting to catch up with her. Once considered the land of milk and honey, she now worried that her boobs were beginning to sag.

She had tried to get her groove back. She read smutty books: The Story of Oh Beautiful for Spacious Skies; The Claiming of Sleeping Giant; Fifty Shades of Red, White, and Blue.

She elected a black man, Barack Obama, to be her new Commander-in-Chief. Together, they experimented with the D&S -- Democrat and Socialist -- lifestyle. She had been briefly filled with hope and change. But he had turned out to be too cold, too aloof, too intellectual to fulfill her hot wanton needs. Even when he sang "let's stay together, " he no longer thrilled her deep down inside her ladyparts.

Worst of all, he just didn't seem to understand moms. Moms didn't want equal pay for equal work, or control over their reproductive health; they wanted porn. It said so right on the cover of Newsweek. She had a brief resurgence of interest in him when he shot his hot lead load into Osama bin-Laden--she dug guy-on-guy action--but since then, meh.

She flirted briefly with other candidates, but none of them seemed quite right. Rick Perry was too dumb, Newt Gingrich thought he was too smart, Herman Cain was too much of a horndog, Rick Santorum was too much of a prude, and Ron Paul was just too plain weird. And she wasn't ready yet to fool around with another girl, like Michele Bachmann (although she did have reoccurring fantasies about Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton. Especially Hillary Clinton. She looked so masterful recently in that photo with shades on.)

Then she saw Mitt Romney. He seemed to have it all: handsome, rich, powerful, a master of the universe. Most important, he promised to give her the fiscal discipline she secretly craved. She had wicked fantasies of him taking her to his Red Ink Room of Pain, slashing her entitlements, collaring her runaway spending, and beating her deficit into submission. Especially if he picked that dreamy Paul Ryan to be his running mate. That Ann Romney certainly looked like one satisfied typical American housewife; she bragged about how stiff her husband was.

There was just one problem--what were his core values? Was he the true severe conservative of her dreams, or was he secretly a mushy Massachusetts moderate? He seemed so rich and firm, so Alpha Romeo male, but she worried he was just another limp flip flopper. She wanted 9 1/2 weeks, not 3 1/2 inches.

And then there was that whole Mormon thing. Was being Mormon the same as being Christian? That was weird, not kinky. Did he posthumously baptize dead Jews? She drew the line at necrophilia. Was he polygamous? She didn't like the idea of sharing him with another debt-ridden sovereign nation. Oh my god, what if he wanted, like, Greece for a co-wife?

And there was always the concern he might go too far one day. She didn't want to wind up tied to the roof of his car and driven to Canada. She was into degradation, but there were limits. That's what safe words were invented for. Her safeword was Seamus.

Maybe she should stick with Obama after all. He showed signs of returning to his old masterful self. He was rolling up his shirtsleeves on the campaign trail as if to administer an old-fashioned OTK bare-bottom spanking. He was talking about punishing naughty millionaires who didn't pay their fair share of taxes. He was even threatening to take the Supreme Court to the woodshed if they overturned Obamacare. (We all remember how kinky Clarence Thomas was from Anita Hill's testimony. Although since then he seems to have a permanent ballgag in his mouth.) And, judging from recent Secret Service reports, he was loosening up.

Sigh. If Obama didn't work out, there was still always Hillary in 2016.

Republican Avengers Assemble!

Tue, 1 May 2012 21:05:55 -0400

August. Tampa, Florida. The Republican National Convention.

NICK FURIOUS: The world has changed. The war has begun. We're hopelessly outgunned.

AGENT MARIA HILL: What is it this time--Loki? Ultron? Kang the Conqueror?

NICK FURIOUS: Barack Obama. If we don't stop him now, he will transform America into a European socialist nanny state with universal health care, income equality, and college education for all. The only way we can defeat him is by joining forces behind one candidate and presenting a united front. Now who's it gonna be?

THE MIGHTY MORE: Verily, tis a task for the Mighty More, the God of Money. I will smite him with Mjölner, my mystic silver spoon--them posthumously convert him to Mormonism.

THE INCREDIBLE NEWT: The angrier Newt gets, the stronger Newt gets. And right now Newt furious about More carpet-bombing Newt with attack ads. Newt smash puny Mormon!

The Incredible Newt and the Mighty More start wrestling on the convention floor for the nomination.

NICK FURIOUS: See, that's what I'm talking about. If we don't hang together, we'll hang separately...

CAPTAIN 1950s AMERICA: It's not the economy, it's values. Our fundamental American freedoms are under attack by a false theology. I want to take America back to a golden era when men were men, women were barefoot and pregnant, and homos stayed in the closet.

NICK FURIOUS: Uh, I think you just lost us the women's vote, the independent vote, and Log Cabin Republicans.

THE INVINCIBLE GOLD MAN: You're all making this way too complicated. We just have to get rid of the Fed and go back to the gold standard. If that doesn't work, we can always go back to the barter system...

NICK FURIOUS: Uh, I think we need something a little sexier...

Suddenly, a red, white, and blue tour bus roars into the convention center. A black spandex-clad figure leaps out.

BLACK GRIZZLY: That's my cue. Drill, baby, drill! It's time to say screw the lamestream media and nominate me to be President of the United States, you betcha. It's either this or take a gig with NBC.

THE MIGHTY MORE: Brazen harlot! Thou thinks thou can skip the primaries and snatch the nomination at the last minute? I should whip thee like a cur, then tie thee to the roof of my car.

THE INCREDIBLE NEWT: Shut up, slick hair! Pretty lady make Newt hot! Maybe she be Mrs. Newt Number Four some day!

The Incredible Newt and the Mighty More resume fighting on the convention floor.

CAPTAIN 1950S AMERICA: What are you doing here, sweetheart? Politics is no place for girls. You should be home baking cookies where you belong.

BLACK GRIZZLY: Why don't you man up, grow a pair, and make me? Red, white, and blue are my colors, not yours! You wanna avenge something, why don't you avenge what Katie Couric did to me?

Black Grizzly and Captain 1950s America start wrestling on the convention floor for the nomination.

THE INVINCIBLE GOLD MAN: Of course if the barter system didn't work out, we could always go back to seashells and bags of salt. If it was good enough for the ancient Babylonians, it's good enough for me. As I said to King Hammurabi...

NICK FURIOUS: Don't we have any more candidates? What happened to War Hawkeye?

AGENT MARIA HILL: The neocons are keeping a low profile this election. You know, Afghanistan and Iraq didn't turn out so well. There's a lot of saber rattling about Iran, but not a lot of enthusiasm for more regime changing and nation building. Say, why do you hate Obama? Aren't you, you know, black?

NICK FURIOUS (defensively): Can't a strong, independent black man think for himself? Does he always have to support the Democratic candidate?

AGENT MARIA HILL: What's the real reason?

NICK FURIOUS: Shhhh! Don't tell anyone. I'm actually an old white dude. My image inducer's stuck. In fact, I'm John McCain.

AGENT MARIA HILL: How desperate is the GOP that it depends on flawed creatures like these?

NICK FURIOUS: Wait a minute, you're not Agent Maria Hill! You're Loki!

Agent Maria Hill transforms into Loki.

LOKI: In the flesh.

NICK FURIOUS: So you're behind all this mischief! I should have known.

LOKI: Not a bit of it. Thou did it to thyselves, mortal, when thou moved so far to the right. Eisenhower, Nixon, even thy precious Ronald Reagan would be considered too liberal for the current GOP. As the result, all thou hath left are cranks, bigots, and wing nuts.

NICK FURIOUS: That should make you very happy.

LOKI: It doth not. In addition to being the God of Mischief, I am also the God of Cunning. And I cannot abide stupidity.

NICK FURIOUS: Well, there's only one thing left to do.

Furious pulls out an enormous gun.

LOKI: Is that for me? Thou knowest I am immune to mortal armaments.

NICK FURIOUS: No, it's for me.

Furious sticks the gun in his mouth and pulls the trigger.

LOKI: Avengers disassemble.

Dr. Strange vs. Rick Santorum

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 08:03:42 -0400

Dr. Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts and Sorcerer Supreme, was tired after a long, hard day of battling evil wizards, dark gods, and eldritch monsters. He just wanted to meditate, smoke a hookah, and maybe get in a little tantric exercise with his beautiful alien disciple Clea. But when he reached his sanctum sanctorum, located somewhere on Bleecker St. in Greenwich Village, he beheld a hideous sight:

DR. STRANGE: By the hoary hosts of Hoggoth! Who are you, and how did you get in here?

SANTORUM: I'm former Pennsylvania senator and current Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum. As to how I got in here, you might say I have a special affinity for sanctum sanctorums.

DR. STRANGE: The one whose name means--

SANTORUM: Don't say it!

DR. STRANGE: But what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out campaigning or something?

SANTORUM: I heard reports of unnatural activity in this house and decided to investigate.

DR. STRANGE: That's only to be expected. I am Sorcerer Supreme, after all. I'm charged with protecting this fragile reality from inter-dimensional threats.

SANTORUM: I'm not here about the Harry Potter stuff--

DR. STRANGE: Harry Potter?

SANTORUM: --although that's bad enough. I'm here about your oriental male lover, Wang.

DR. STRANGE: His name is Wong, not Wang. And he's my manservant, not my lover.

SANTORUM: Wang, Wong, what's the diff? Two grown men living together is suspicious.

DR. STRANGE: I can assure you nothing is going on between me and Wong. Even if he was my male lover--which he isn't--what business is that of yours? This is a democracy, not a theocracy.

SANTORUM: A Christian democracy. It says so right in the Constitution--if you squint hard enough. And this Chrisrian democracy is under attack by Satan.

DR. STRANGE: I agree with you there. I've fought many of His diabolical manifestations--Satannish, Mephisto, the dread Dormmamu...

Santorum shakes his pointy head impatiently.

SANTORUM: I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about lady parts.

DR. STRANGE: Excuse me?

SANTORUM: You know, south of the border, where babies come from, (whispering) vaginas.

DR. STRANGE: I'm familiar with them. I used to be a medical doctor, you know, before I switched to the mystic arts. But what do vaginas have to do with Satan? Some of my best friends have vaginas. Frankly, I think they're divine!

SANTORUM: Blasphemy! They're the gateway to hell! They make me want to throw up!

DR. STRANGE: You're a bigger annoyance than Baron Mordo. And a bigger religious fanatic than Silver Dagger. Your wife has a vagina, doesn't she? You have seven children, don't you?

SANTORUM: Don't remind me! I only go near that foul thing when I want to make babies. Eve tempted Adam and led to his downfall. Sandra Fluke tempted Rush Limbaugh, and look what that's done to his sponsors.

DR. STRANGE: Your poor wife. And she hadn't divorced you yet?

SANTORUM: My wife is the rock I stand on.

DR. STRANGE: Must be pretty uncomfortable for her.

SANTORUM: All you college snobs think you're so smart! (Although I have three degrees myself.) We must launch a first strike against vaginas--we can't wait until they get the bomb. Fortinately, I have just the thing to ward off their evil influence.

DR. STRANGE: The Orb of Agamotto? The Crimson Bands of Cyttorak? The Wand of Watoomb?

SANTORUM: No, aspirin.

DR. STRANGE: Aspirin?

SANTORUM: Sure, you just have to get them to hold them between their knees, and they're helpless.

DR. STRANGE: Enough! I can stand no more of this rank superstition! Religious freedom is one thing, but misogyny is something else. Long before your Johnny-come-lately religion, people worshipped the goddess Gaia.

SANTORUM: A false theology, just like Barack Obama's. The Catholic church is the one true church. I don't trust these Protestants--or any of those Mormons either.

DR. STRANGE: Your precious Virgin Mary had a vagina! Your mother had a vagina! Your daughters have vaginas!

Santorum sticks his fingers in his ears.

SANTORUM: Nyah, nyah, nyah! I can't hear you! I'm in a persistent vegetative state, like Terri Schiavo.

DR. STRANGE: I see stronger methods must be employed.

Dr. Strange consults the Book of the Vishanti.

DR. STRANGE: Ah, just the thing! You need to get in touch with your feminine roots. Pandorium boxious transformia!

Santorum is transformed into a giant, disembodied vagina.

SANTORUM: Oh, my God! Change me back!

DR. STRANGE: I'm not finished yet.

SANTORUM: What?

DR. STRANGE: I told you I used to be a medical doctor. Now for the transvaginal ultrasound.

How Newt Gingrich Became The Herald Of Galactus

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 11:02:04 -0500

In his secret lunar base hidden on the dark side of the moon, Newt Gingrich licks his political wounds and plots yet another unlikely comeback:

NEWT: They called me "unstable," "erratic," "grandiose!" I'll show them! As soon as I've completed my death ray, I'll decimate the rest of the Republican field! Then they'll have to nominate me! Bwah-ha-ha-ha!

CALLISTA: Oh, Newt, will you quit fiddling around with that death ray gizmo? I'm bored! We haven't been on a Greek cruise in weeks! I've been wearing this spacesuit so long I've developed helmet hair!

NEWT: Patience, my dear, patience. As soon as I've finished soldering this circuit board, we'll stop for some low-gravity sex. Won't that be fun?

CALLISTA (rolling her eyes): I'd rather go to Tiffany's. Why do we have to live on the dark side of the moon, anyway?

NEWT: I got a cheap mortgage from Freddie Mac. Now be quiet, or I'll shut off your oxygen, and you'll be ex-wife number three.

CALLISTA: Wait, there's someone at the airlock! Who can it be? We don't know anyone here on the dark side of the moon.

WATCHER: Greetings, Earthlings! I am the Watcher, a giant, bald-headed alien dedicated to observing your world and its inhabitants. I live next door in the mysterious Blue Zone, so I thought I'd stop over to introduce myself.

NEWT: The Watcher? I think I read about you in the Fantastic Four. Well, I don't have time to socialize--I'm busy plotting my bloody revenge.

WATCHER: But we have so much in common! We are both massive intellects who happen to look like petulant, overgrown babies. Besides, I thought your campaign was dead after Florida.

NEWT: I've come back from the dead more often than Dr. Doom. Now get out of here before I have you deported.

WATCHTER: Deported?

NEWT: As far as I'm concerned, the Moon is U.S. territory, which means you're an illegal alien.

WATCHER: But I've been here for millennia observing your primitive species evolve on your insignificant mudball of a planet!

NEWT: Do you have any grandchildren? Do you belong to any church groups?

WATCHER: Of course not! I am pledged never to interfere, only to observe.

NEWT: Then I'm afraid I can't make an exception. And that pious "pledged never to interfere" baloney won't work either. There's a war on against global Islamic Jihadist fascism--choose a side!

WATCHER: The Watcher does not "choose sides!" The Watcher observes!

NEWT: Typical spineless European socialist elitist. Didn't you learn anything from the war? Appeasement doesn't work. As Winston Churchill said, "a house divided against itself cannot stand."

WATCHER: That was Abraham Lincoln. You're confusing the Civil War with World War II. I thought you were an historian.

NEWT: I'll give you history. "The winners write the history books." Adolph Hitler said that.

Gingrich zaps the Watcher with his death ray.

WATCHER: Aarrrgh!

NEWT: It works! Now to just plug in Romney's coordinates. Mr. Job Creator is in for some real creative destruction. In the meantime, Callista, could you do something with the body? The last thing we need is a giant, bald-headed alien corpse stinking up the place.

CALLISTA: Uh, Newt, there's someone else at the airlock--

NEWT: If it's Ron Paul, tell him it's too late to drop out and endorse me.

CALLISTA: I don't think it's Ron Paul. He's a little taller--

GALACTUS: I AM GALACTUS, THE DEVOUER OF WORLDS! HE WHOSE HUNGER CAN NEVER BE SATIATED! AND I DON'T LIKE WHAT YOU DID TO MY OLD FRIEND, THE WATCHER. WE MAY NOT HAVE ALWAYS SEEN EYE TO EYE, BUT WE WERE FELLOW COSMIC BEINGS. PREPARE TO DIE!

CALLISTA: Oh, dear Lord, this is what comes from fooling around with a married man! Please, Jesus, save me and I promise never to do it again.

NEWT: Relax, dear. If I could work with Nancy Pelosi, I can work with anyone. Hey, big fellow, I've been looking for a running mate. You're much more impressive than Marco Rubio. How'd you like to be my Veep?

GALACTUS: INSOLENT WORM! YOU DARE BARGAIN WITH GALACTUS? BUT YOU HAVE GIVEN ME AN IDEA. I NEED A NEW HERALD TO SEARCH FOR LIVING PLANETS FOR ME TO FEAST UPON. THE SILVER SURFER HAS GONE INDY. PREPARE YOURSELF, MORTALS, FOR TRANSFIGURATION!

Sometime later...

NEWT (in the form of a man-size silver-plated baby): Okay, so I didn't get to be President of the United States. At least I've got this swell surfboard.

CALLISTA (in the form of a silver-plated surfboard): Oh, shut the hell up and keep searching.

Captain America For President

Wed, 18 Jan 2012 08:01:57 -0500

"The Tea Party Movement: Waiting For Captain America" -- The Economist

I said I would never get involved with politics. I've always been much more comfortable fighting bad guys like the Red Skull or Hydra. But I can no longer be a member of the Silent, Masked Majority. What has become of my beloved Republican party?

I liked Ike. Eisenhower was the kind of pragmatic conservative I could get behind. Plus he was a World War II hero, which means a lot to a living legend like myself.

Since then, though, it's been all downhill: stumblebums like Gerald Ford, ne'er-do-wells like George Bush I and II, and paranoid crooks like Richard Nixon. (He reminded me of the hooded leader of the Secret Empire.)

Ronald Reagan seemed like a return to form. He raised taxes when he needed to and ignored the "Jesus Christers" once he got into office. But he introduced trickledown economics and let the Moral Majority-types into the party in the first place. It's like when Modok invented the Cosmic Cube: no good can come of this.

(Yes, yes, I know, Reagan singlehandedly defeated the Soviet Union. I also know the Soviet Union helped us defeat Nazi Germany. That's one advantage of living a preternaturally long life due to the Super Soldier serum coursing through my veins: it gives me historical perspective. I saw action on the Russian front during the Great Patriotic War.)

At least John McCain was a decorated war hero. But this current batch of contenders is really discouraging:

Mitt Romney. A slick, manipulative , programmed candidate who will say or do anything to get elected. He reminds me of Dr. Faustus -- minus the Viennese accent and goatee. Or something dreamed up in A.I.M.'s laboratories.

Newt Gingrich. This guy has Baron Zemo written all over him: a self-appointed "man of destiny" with anger management issues and a weakness for the ladies. All he needs is a glued-on, un-removable hood. (Actually, it might be an improvement.)

Rick Santorum. Look, I'm not personally comfortable with homosexuality. It's not how I was raised. But I'm even less comfortable with oppression. I've seen firsthand where it can lead. There were pink triangles as well as yellow stars at Auschwitz. Besides, have you Googled his name?

Rick Perry. I don't have anything against religion. After all, I fight for God and Country. But I'm suspicious of a guy who wears his faith on his sleeve. And I doubt Jesus Christ would be quite so enthusiastic about the death penalty. He reminds me of the Crusader -- all sword, no love. (Now I hear Perry wants to go back into Iraq. Take it from an old soldier: sometimes it's better to retreat while you're ahead.)

Ron Paul. He's the one who really scares me. I've read his newsletters. They could have been written by the Hate Monger. Now he disavows them, but he doesn't disavow the white supremacist and neo-Nazi groups that are supporting him. And his obsession with "Austrian economics" is suspicious. The last guy with big ideas to come out of Austria was named Hitler.

Jon Huntsman. Who? He may speak Mandarin, but he doesn't remind me of the Mandarin. Or any other supervillain for that matter. I wish he was a double agent for the Chinese, like Ron Paul has suggested. That at least would make him interesting. You've gotta have charisma to lead--like Eisenhower.

That's why I've decided to throw my cowl into the ring. I figure if it's a brokered convention I can still win the nomination. Which, given the lack of enthusiasm for Dr. Faustus--I mean Romney--seems likely. Even in a supposedly pro-Romney state like New Hampshire, he'll be lucky to get 50% of the vote. The only reason he's leading in the polls is because the other candidates keep fighting among themselves. It's kind of like an Avengers meeting when Thor, Iron Man, and the Hulk are all in attendance.

I don't have anything against Barack Obama. I'm not one of those kooks who thinks he's a secret Muslim socialist born in Kenya--not that there's something wrong with any of those things. I just have a different point of view policy-wise. That's what makes politics. My sometime partner the Falcon is supporting Obama, and we're still good buddies. (If anything, I wish Obama was more like FDR. Don't bash Roosevelt on my watch. Like Reagan, I may have left the Democratic party, but I never left the man.)

Now if I can just find a running mate--someone to balance the ticket. A cross-party candidate with strong popular appeal. Hmmm, I wonder if Superman is available?