Dogfight (10 page)

But most thought Mitt, once having heard this chatter,

Would add a slice of white bread to his platter.

Rob Portman, of Ohio, pundits guessed,

Would likely be the grail of Romney’s quest.

A senator once head of OMB,

He boasted a magnificent CV.

His name for veep had also been revealed

Before McCain unleashed that bomb downfield.

Ohio was a swing state that just might,

Republicans had hoped, swing toward the right.

Ohio mattered, no two ways about it;

Republicans had never won without it.

The campaign press corps would, of course, persist

In adding politicians to the list.

McDonnell of Virginia was discussed.

Support of Christie had become robust.

And if a woman veep might have a shot,

There was some talk of Senator Ayotte.

But Portman was the favorite going in,

Though some thought Tim Pawlenty just might win.

Then, suddenly, we heard that Mitt was veering

Toward Ryan, he of social engineering—

The right-wing type. (Or that’s what Newt had said—

A quip that got him taken to the shed.)

Paul Ryan was, as everyone agreed,

In some ways what a guy like Mitt would need—

A young, attractive man who’d always been

Quite human, comfortable inside his skin.

A natural who never seemed aloof, he

Could chat with folks and not say something goofy.

He’d been the darling of the tea-bag right,

A group whose love of Mitt had been quite slight.

Conservatives at last could now rejoice—

Quite heartened when they heard of Romney’s choice.

And liberals, too, thought this would just be good,

Because the choice of Ryan likely would

Divert the campaign spotlight’s glare

From joblessness to things like Medicare—

A battlefield Republicans don’t choose,

Since it is one fight that they usually lose.

Mitt’s team, though, countered with an ad

That said Obama’s health-care project had

Robbed Medicare of billions, which, for sure,

Would go right to the undeserving poor.

Though that, in fact, was not exactly true,

The ad had done what it was meant to do:

The deficit on Medicare Mitt faced

Apparently was gradually erased.

Still, Ryan’s budget Democrats would pitch

As taking from the poor to help the rich.

One portrait for which liberals saw him posing:

A banker who stays cheerful while foreclosing,

A follower, in pictures they would paint,

Of Ayn Rand, Gordon Gekko’s patron saint.

The main campaign, declared those in the know,

Was bound to cost an awful lot of dough.

In Citizens United, the Supremes

Had ruled (by five to four, of course) that schemes

Called Super PACs could (sticking to a role

Not subject to a candidate’s control)

Spend millions to destroy his rival’s name

And thus essentially control the game.

Yes, buying pols, no matter what the price,

Was simply speech—free speech, to be precise.

By summer, Sheldon Adelson was seen

As one iconic figure of this scene.

Shel Adelson had speech more like a shout,

With millions spent to get Obama out.

Newt’s old enabler had upped his bet

That, digging in the deepest pockets yet,

He’d get a government that he could praise

For following the wisdom of his ways.

There had been talk that that’s precisely how

Things worked out well for Sheldon in Macao.

But Yanks are also willing to kowtow

As long as they can milk a big cash cow:

In Israel, Shel showed Mitt to his friends,

Like showing off a new Mercedes-Benz.

And Ryan, within days of his selection,

Flew off to Vegas to express affection

For Adelson, who’d greatly stretched his reach

By giving all those millions of free speech.

And who’d step in if Sheldon should go broke?

Those black-tie populists, the brothers Koch.

The Democrats had fat cats of their own,

Although the President had not been prone

To give big donors what they’re always needing:

Some ego stroking and much care and feeding.

With heated words and even some derision

He’d criticized the Super PAC decision.

And now he’d have to sing a different song,

And ask for cash for what he’d said was wrong.

Because of that, perhaps, he’d been quite slow

Approving use of Super PAC big dough.

The analysts all said that wasn’t smart,

Surrendering to Romney such a start.

The super-rich would mainly fund this race,

And some said we had now become a place

Where billionaires decide. The only test

Is which side can persuade them to invest.

Todd Akin’s rather singular theology

Rejected what’s in middle-school biology

And treated basic research with defiance.

His House committee dealt, of course, with science.

He ran for a Missouri Senate seat

Whose holder looked quite easy to defeat.

But then he said, with customary piety,

That rape, of the “legitimate” variety,

Will rarely make one pregnant, since the shock

Will put the reproductive works on lock.

(This proves at least he isn’t thinking maybe

A kindly stork is what will bring a baby.)

Republicans, appalled, said “Todd, skiddoo!”

Though language in a bill that they’d pushed through

The House was close to his. Plus their right flank

Had in the party platform placed a plank

Against abortion, and the way they framed

The language, there were no exceptions named.

Paul Ryan was a sponsor of that bill—

Which meant that Akin’s ignorance would spill

Into the presidential race for sure.

Republicans were braced now to endure

A charge they’d heard a million times before:

On women they were surely waging war.