Dogfight Read online

  Reducing a competitor to rubble.

  As senator, they argued, Rick was tending

  Toward earmarks, not to speak of pork barrel spending.

  Yes, Rick, according to what Mitt’s team aired,

  Was nice enough but not, in fact, prepared

  To hold the highest office in the land,

  With actual bombers under his command.

  Destroying opposition was the way

  That Mitt’s team saw for him to win each fray,

  Because the base’s trust still stood unearned.

  Mitt still talked right-wing talk like lines he’d learned.

  As governor, he told one crowd quite clearly,

  His thrust had been conservative—“severely.”

  Severely

  (To the tune of the Moonglows’ “Sincerely,” or “America the Beautiful,” depending on who’s singing.)

  Severely. Yes, I governed severely.

  Uh-uh, I wasn’t nearly

  A moderate then.

  Severely. Yes, I governed severely.

  I moved further right yearly—

  Right-wing way back when.

  I swear, I can’t fathom just how

  That health-care law got through.

  And with my name, too. Repealing such a law’s the first thing I will do.

  Severely. Yes, I governed severely.

  And I governed austerely.

  I’ll do it again.

  The race now had a different complexion.

  In Michigan, the primary election

  Would be on February’s final day.

  The Romney carpet bombers bombed away.

  This testing ground was Romney’s home state, too.

  (Though he of course had homes in quite a few.)

  If Romney failed to win his home state vote,

  It might for Mitt, they said, be all she wrote.

  His casual talk was still quite far from supple.

  He mentioned Ann owned Cadillacs—“a couple.”

  He loved not just the cars here, Romney said.

  But how high trees extend above one’s head.

  I Thought That I Would Never See a Pol Who Loved the Height of Trees

  I love this state. It seems right here. The trees are the right height.

  —Mitt Romney, in his home state of Michigan

  Away from here, I find no trees that please—

  No trees at such a perfect height as these.

  For me, I cannot ever be at ease

  With trees that grow no higher than one’s knees

  Or too-tall trees that splinter in a freeze.

  Wisconsin, sure, has bragging rights on cheese,

  And California’s rich in Cantonese,

  And Colorado’s where to take your skis.

  Connecticut, of course, has Lyme disease.

  At none of these am I prepared to sneeze.

  But here we have the perfect height of trees.

  I know that I will never see a sight

  As lovely as a tree whose height is right.

  Santorum, too, seemed terribly hard put

  To keep himself from shooting toward his foot.

  From Catholics he received a strong rebuke

  For saying JFK’s speech made him puke.

  His hectoring on things like birth control

  Had gotten shrill enough to try the soul.

  Those views, the feeling went, among some others,

  Would in the fall offend suburban mothers.

  The base, though, still could not commit to Mitt.

  Mitt simply wouldn’t be a perfect fit.

  Republicans for once began to mention

  The snarl that could occur at their convention.

  Was Mitt a candidate so mediocre

  That they might need the service of a broker?

  16.

  Stuck Again

  So Romney won his home state vote—but barely.

  Republicans now faced the fact that rarely,

  If ever, had the word “presumptive” come

  And gone so many times as in this scrum.

  One moment Romney seems to have the prize—

  The delegates, endorsements from the guys

  Who’ve always in the party had the clout.

  A moment later something casts a doubt

  On whether in November he’d come through.

  That starts anew: in lieu of Romney, who?

  Some longed still for some sort of alpha lion—

  A pro like Christie, Daniels, Bush, or Ryan.

  In Michigan, Newt finished fourth once more,

  Which meant, some thought, that he’d be out the door.

  The right-wing forces thought that they would do

  Much better fielding just one man, not two.

  When Gingrich had a major surge, he’d tried

  Suggesting Rick Santorum move aside,

  Which would, by Newton’s reckoning, permit

  The right-wing vote for once to be unsplit.

  At that point, Rick would not accept defeat.

  Nor now would Newt, when shoes had changed their feet.

  On Not Leaving the Field

  Right-wingers who want to be heard

  Note Newt at his best’s only third.

  But if right-wing votes were combined,

  The front-runner might fall behind.

  So they say to Newt, “Won’t you go?”

  And Newt, being Newt, answers no.

  Newt’s ideological kin

  Are dreading a moderate’s win.

  They argue they might turn the tide

  If Gingrich will just step aside.

  Then Mitt can’t divide a duet.

  And Newt, being Newt, still says nyet.

  “When England was under the blitz,

  Did Churchill say, ‘Let’s call it quits’?”

  Says Newt, “That is not what you see

  From statesmen like Churchill and me.”

  “Oh, please, just this once, Newt,” they say.

  And Newt, being Newt, says “No way.”

  If Mitt had hoped to have “presumptive” nailed

  On Super Tuesday, then of course he failed.

  In delegates his total acquisition

  Was not enough to crush the competition.

  Sure, Rick, who’d won three states, was still behind;

  Just Georgia had the Newtster on its mind.

  But still Mitt failed to get the votes he needed

  To briskly march toward Tampa unimpeded.

  And if he finally managed his ascendance,

  Would he be too far right for independents?

  His manager said no, this wasn’t true,

  Because, like Etch A Sketch, he’ll start anew.

  To start anew—to flop, then flip—appeared

  To be precisely what the right wing feared.

  Yes, added to accumulated fodder, it

  Portrayed him as a Massachusetts moderate—

  The sort of man who, once he wins the bid’ll,

  With just one shake, skedaddle toward the middle.

  The Situation

  So Mitt’s officially an Etch A Sketch,

  And Rick says JFK’s speech made him retch.

  Ron Paul’s a ditz, and Gingrich is a letch.

  Though nets are flung as far as they will stretch,

  There isn’t any white knight there to fetch.

  Republicans thus sit around and kvetch.

  17.

  The Southern Strategy

  In Southern states, Mitt Romney’s stump routine

  Was singular, and something to be seen.

  To come off even folksier than Paul,

  He’d throw in, now and then, a goofy “y’all.”

  His favorite food? He sounded as if it’s

  Some catfish with a side of “cheesy grits.”

  Some Southerners thought Mitt should quit pretending;

  From him, it came across as condescending
r />   To think with Southern voters he’d be blending

  By dropping g from every gerund’s ending.

  As if he had some chaw in his jeans pocket,

  He stood there and recited “Davy Crockett.”

  The Southern crowd just wondered what it means

  That he had perfect creases in those jeans.

  I’m a Mandarin Who’s Panderin’

  Mitt Romney’s my name.

  I’m aimin’ to please.

  The floor at my feet

  Is littered with g’s.

  Three Southern contests happened on one day.

  A sweep, Newt thought, would certainly convey,

  Considering his two already won,

  That his Old South possessed a favorite son.

  The logic of that no one could dispute.

  The problem was the son’s name wasn’t Newt:

  Yes, Hat Trick Rick Santorum had once more

  With Gingrich and with Romney wiped the floor.

  He only had a week, though, to enjoy

  That victory, and then came Illinois.

  Mitt triumphed there, and in Wisconsin, too.

  Could there be any more he had to do?

  The anyone-but-Mitt folks grew less raucous.

  DeMint, the leader of the Wing Nut Caucus,

  Endorsed Mitt, as did all the white knights who

  Some hoped would jump in late and stage a coup:

  The voters could no longer pull a switch

  And go for Jeb or Paul or Chris or Mitch.

  At last, the script that Mitt had long rehearsed

  Had gone too far, most thought, to be reversed.

  At last, it seemed he’d put away the game,

  And had “presumptive” tacked on to his name.

  The Republican National Committee Selects a Campaign Slogan

  Our slogan’s been chosen.

  We think it’s a hit.

  We’ll shout from the rafters,

  “We’ve settled for Mitt!”

  18.

  The Party’s Over

  Despite the many contests that he’d won,

  The count of delegates could not be spun

  In ways that made the plain arithmetic

  Look anything but very grim for Rick.

  Whatever flaws he has, the man can count.

  His campaign debt had now begun to mount.

  At Easter time he said he would suspend

  His operation. Rick had reached the end.

  Adieu Santorum

  The race will miss the purity

  That you alone endow.

  We’ll never find another man

  Who’s holier than thou.

  And Newt? Would Newt continue in the fray

  Now, even though he didn’t have a ray?

  One factor made his situation worse:

  Shel Adelson was zipping up his purse.

  Yes, sixteen million—not a penny more—

  Turned out to be as much as Newt could schnorrer

  From Adelson, who, though he’d closed Newt’s drama,

  Said he’d give millions more to beat Obama.

  He guaranteed Republican campaigns

  Would benefit from his ill-gotten gains.

  End of the Line?

  Sheldon Adelson, the Las Vegas billionaire who has been the biggest backer to a group supporting Newt Gingrich, said this week that Mr. Gingrich had reached “the end of his line” in his bid for the presidency.

  —The New York Times

  So Newt’s coming closer to facing defeat?

  His main sugar daddy’s no longer so sweet.

  And Newt never was: Why, when he had the power

  Of all of that sugar, he still sounded sour.

  So why was he remaining in the fight?

  Could Newton be there simply out of spite?

  Did he remain, and not just take a hike,

  To bloody up a man he didn’t like?

  It’s possible, but finally, in May,

  Newt grudgingly announced he’d go away.

  Newt Departs from the Island of Poliwonks

  (The saddest leave-taking since Max left the Wild Things)

  “Don’t go!” all the poliwonks started to croon.

  “What other Republican dared to harpoon

  The Mittster for being a heartless tycoon?

  Who’s left to start planning a town on the moon,

  As if he had stepped from the pages of Dune?

  Who never did hesitate once to impugn

  The press—his best foil—when it seemed opportune?

  Oh why, Newt, oh why must you leave us so soon?”

  But Newt, though quite portly, as well as jejune,

  Just floated away, like a hot air balloon.

  So it was Mitt. He’d won. The next month he

  Was called “presumptive” by the RNC.

  At last the last threat, Rick, had been defeated.

  The sniper, Newt, had finally retreated

  Back where he could fulfill Callista’s dreams,

  With funding from his shady K Street schemes.

  The right was stuck with Mitt, so said the news.

  But had Mitt now been stuck with all their views?

  Small Animals Dispatched

  So Mitt’s finally won. The whack-a-mole’s over.

  The moles have been whacked, and Mitt is in clover.

  The clover smells good, but here is the riddle:

  Can Romney now move it a bit toward the middle?

  By dropping the wacko-right banner he’s gripping,

  Will he be accused of more flopping and flipping?

  19.

  Mitt’s Got the Gold

  So Mitt alone emerged then from the brawl—

  Opposed by none, except for Dr. Paul.

  The doctor’s praises hadn’t gone unsung

  By loyal backers, many of them young.

  A libertarian, he espoused the view

  That you can do whatever you can do—

  Unless (and this requires some contortion)

  The thing you want to do is an abortion.

  In early contests, Ron Paul did quite well,

  Although reporters did begin to dwell

  On whether publications in the past

  That bore his name were of a racist cast.

  His bearing was much less than charismatic.

  His views on war were downright Democratic.

  His role was of the somewhat odd, erratic,

  Eccentric uncle living in the attic.

  So Mitt’s advisers saw no cause to fret

  That Paul remained. The doctor was no threat.

  In fact, they thought it might be sticky wicket

  If Paul broke ranks to head another ticket.

  So Romney found with Paul some common ground.

  The Mittster wanted Paul to stick around.

  Opposites Remain

  Paul has his own style, which is folksy, not canned.

  Religion? He’s got one. His prophet’s Ayn Rand.

  By Rand’s eerie theories he’s fervently gripped,

  So he won’t do flip-flops. He long ago flipped.

  With Romney’s lead now finally unassailable,

  His team began to make him unavailable

  For those occasions where the work of staff

  Could not preclude the presence of a gaffe.

  They skipped the gatherings where nonchalance

  Could lead to an embarrassing response.

  They built, at any must-attend affair,

  Around their man a cordon sanitaire.

  And interviews, which also could bring shocks,

  Were not allowed—not even those on Fox.

  In interviews, they’d found, their man could quickly

  Become a CEO—aloof and prickly.

  Mitt Romney’s Handlers Devise a New Strategy

  To keep him from uttering what might appall,

  He’ll simply be saying now nothing at all.<
br />
  They wanted Mitt on message, which was this:

  Obama is a man we must dismiss.

  He had his opportunity to cure

  The hard times that our people still endure.

  We can’t recover under his command.

  Our system’s something he can’t understand,

  Because the man has never had a hand

  In business—that’s the business of this land.

  What’s needed to escape recession’s clenches?

  A man who’s been there in the business trenches,

  Who, seeing an economy destroyed,

  Rolls up his sleeves and gets those folks employed.

  Business Experience

  Last week, Mitt Romney floated an idea at a campaign rally in Las Vegas: the future president should be required to have three years of business experience before serving in office.

  —The Washington Post

  Experience in business is vital, said Mitt—

  Three years at the least, in the plan he unveiled.

  Though Truman’s accomplishments seem to suggest

  The business in question would have to have failed.

  20.

  Bain

  Mitt Romney from the start had often stated

  That many jobs by him had been created

  In businesses that thrived throughout his reign

  As founder and the CEO of Bain.

  He said a hundred thousand was the total—

  A number shown to be, well, anecdotal.

  He dropped the number from his speeches; still,

  He said a savvy businessman could fill

  So many jobs now vanished since the nation

  Got handicapped by overregulation.

  Free enterprise, Mitt said, was the elixir

  To fix this mess—and he the master fixer.

  His business background was Mitt Romney’s pride.

  The problem was there was another side.

  His rivals in the primaries rebutted:

  Mitt’s firm cashed in while companies were gutted.