Nurse Bildirjin began to sweep the floor and tidy up the room. She seemed in a happy frame of mind but apparently it was too quiet for her. She went over to the radio on the hook, pulled out the earphone jack, and turned on the hot pop station.
"Hey," I said, being pretty tired by this time of "You Are My Monster," "He said I could leave! Unstrap this bed and let me out of here. Where are my clothes?"
Stay informed of what, though? The pageantry and showmanship of the convention? The same focus on spectacle over substance that's helped wreck this country's political process? I think I'll pass.
She put the bathrobe and slippers down all the way across the room. Then she stood there just looking at me.
I mean, what am I really missing? There's gonna be the "character witness" speaker who talks about how their man this year is the chosen one, destined to implement the party's values, defeat their political enemies, and usher in a new golden age. There's gonna be the party firebrand who whips the audience into a frenzy by listing the opposition's sins and demonizing the incumbent president. The vice presidential candidate will try to make everyone feel more comfortable with the possibility of the presidential candidate keeling over the first day in office. And then the big guy himself will get up and read a speech some writer stayed up all night on, and it doesn't really matter because he's already won the nomination, so he isn't trying to win over the crowd, yet that's who he has to pander to.
"You instigated that operation," I said.
I expected a hearty denial. But she said, "Well, of course! Anyone who would TWICE interrupt a girl halfway through is undersexed. Such a person couldn't possibly appreciate the finer things of life. And at my first hint, Doctor Muhammed got straight to work. But I am not at all sure we have put an end to it."
Those black eyes were too bright! "I think," she said, "I should be reassured."
So it's not so much an anti-Romney thing as it is me being jaded with the whole process. I have no reason to watch the Democratic convention either, even though that's how I'll be voting this year. Not that the thrice-damned electoral college will let my vote matter, of course. But I guess it's a good habit to engage in the political process, even if the process is designed to exclude you.
A stir of alarm speeded up my heart. She looked just like women do when they're about to do something sly and cunning.
"Well," she said, "there's only one way to tell."
She raced over to the door and barred it. She came back and turned the radio up louder. She went to the windows and made sure nobody could see in.
My alarm grew.
Which isn't to say that I don't have problems with Romney, and they have nothing to do with his magic underwear. It's not really a policy issue either, though I don't agree with his stances on... well, anything, I guess.
I felt the bed tip: the light fixture slanted.
Oh, my Gods! What did she have in mind?
The bed tipped again.
Frantically, I tried to rise up and see what was happening. The straps prevented it.
A cold draft told me that the lower part of the sheet was being lifted.
My problem is how schizophrenic his campaign has been. He's a Massachusetts Republican who came up with a health care plan that gave Obama some ideas. He started out significantly farther left than the other candidates, he was practically a moderate.
My eyes almost popped out of my head.
I suddenly divined what she was up to!
Good Gods! This girl was a minor!
Her father was the leading physician of the province. He would kill me if I touched her!
I tried to reconcile myself with the thought that SHE was doing all the touching.
But presidential campaigns aren't about moderation; at least not initially, not in these hyperpartisan times. To win the nomination you must appeal to the party's base, the most dogmatic and puritanical elements. In other words, the political fringe. So Romney had to present himself as a True Republican, which meant struggling with his East Coast record and redefining himself as the sort of hard-right conservative that the party could rally behind. And he didn't really succeed. At best everyone realized that of all the candidates they came up with, he had the best bet at winning the general election.
"Ooooh!" she crooned. "Lovely, lovely!"
The nurse's cap eased down.
Then the bed began to rock.
The top of the nurse's cap was in my view, then the light fixture, alternately.
I felt my eyes begin to spin in circles.
So once Romney clinched the nomination (be default), he immediately had to shift his campaigning back to the left to aim for The Center and win the general election, except now he was fighting everything he'd said while going for that nomination.
Her nurse's cap and the light fixture were shifting in rhythym to the music.
I was engulfed in a GLORIOUS SENSATION!
He had to present himself as the man all Americans would rally behind, someone who could undo the sitting president's failed policies and fix the problems an utterly broken Congress had repeatedly failed to address, much less solve.
It went on and on! Both Nurse Bildirjin and the music!
And it's hard to blame Romney for any of this, because that's just how badly the American political system works. You veer left/right for one half of the campaign, then go the other way for the last stretch. But then he picked Ryan as a running mate.
Minutes and minutes! Then bbbbbbbbblowOWIE!!!
Earthquakes and hurricanes mixed up with all the celestial chaos of the Gods didn't compare to what occurred!
WOW!
Finally the room quieted down to just a blurred spin.
I lay back panting.
A sort of wonder came over me. Where had this been all my life?
Ryan, the guy who's solution to the health care crisis was to privatize it. The guy who keeps proposing radical budget cuts and keeps getting ignored by his more mainstream colleagues. The guy who built a reputation as a ruthlessly pragmatic fiscal conservative after spending the Bush years signing blank checks for the president's foreign adventures.
She was muttering to herself. "Prahd says it's awfully good for the complexion. Judging from the amount, I'm going to have the finest complexion in Turkey!"
So after zing-zagging across the road on the campaign trail, and just when he should be getting in the center lane, Romney swerved back to the right at the last minute. He's the guy who came up with a socialized health care plan, then spoke out against the president's similar health care plan, then tried to present himself as the guy who can save health care from the president, while running with a man who tried to kill health care.
"Mustn't waste it even so," she said. "Conservation is my motto."
I couldn't see what she was doing. I heard her crossing the room to the washbasin.
I head water splashing. Then a silence.
Suddenly the sheet was yanked off my face. She was standing fully dressed beside me.
"Anyway," she said to me with a professional smile, "you will be glad to know that the equipment passes the clinical test."
Romney's comments while overseas cast serious doubt on his suitability to lead the free world. And from his campaign antics, I'm not sure how he got elected governor in the first place.
She nodded toward my lower body that I couldn't see. Then she looked at me. She wagged an admonishing finger at me. "You are, of course, just a boy with a new toy. So don't break it right away."
She began to undo the buckles on the straps that held me down.
In short, I'd say that Romney combines the charisma of Al Gore, the constancy of John Kerry, and John McCain's wisdom regarding running-mate selection.
The realization hit me fully. I had just (bleeped) Prahd's girl!
"Don't tell Prahd!" I pleaded with her.
"Well," she said, "that depends."
Blackmail! I knew it! My Apparatus trained nose could smell it even above her perfume and the reek of sex! "On what?" I begged.
"Two things," she said. "Don't interrupt a girl again halfway through. And don't, don't, don't you run into my Fiat ever, ever, ever again!"
I did not like the look in her eye. "I promise"
"Well, I don't," she said.
Can he win, though? On his own merits, based on how he's run so far, I'd say certainly not. But he does have the benefit of a president who ran on hope and change without delivering as much of the latter as he promised with the former. The economy is still sluggish, Obama's big health care overhaul is more controversial than popular, and his green energy stuff isn't really paying off yet.
She threw off the last buckle and then tossed the disposable bathrobe and slippers at me. "Put these on and walk around the hall until your clothes come. I've got to mop all these spatters off the floor before somebody sees them and finds out."
Practical girl. I hastily exited.
The better question would be does Romney even want to win? The president can only influence the economy, after all, he can't singlehandedly turn it around with some magical executive order. Just look at all the times the news ticker started with "the stock market went up/down/sideways" and ended with "in response to Europe's markets." Then there's the looming catastrophic budget crisis which will require both spending cuts, which one party will hate, and increased revenue, with the other hates. And it's hard to imagine a Congress worse suited to deal with these issues.
So if Romney wins, I'll be surprised and disappointed. But if he loses, I have a hunch he'll look back on his defeat as having dodged a bullet.
Back to Chapter Six
Hey man, if you ever come back to this page, as obscure as it is, just know that you actually did manage to write one of the greatest pieces of comedy and satire on the internet. It’s such a slog to get to this chapter of the book, but it was worth it for this amazing post. Well done.
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