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" Photo Illustration by DonkeyHotey for The Politics BlogHe&amp;#039;s sold himself out, and that&amp;#039;s the only story worth talking about now that we&amp;#039;ve finally (perhaps) reached the general. Not long ago, I offered some advice on the care and maintenance of the Romneybot 2.0. Specifically, I suggested some new rhetoric that could be programmed into the mechanism in order to dispel what appears to be a general confusion over the actual purpose of the machine. Is it a device programmed to run for president or for Finance Chairman of the local Kiwanis? Is its prime directive that of a moderate business-school Republican or a Jesus-come-lately snake-handling hero to The Base? Is it a coffee maker? A vacuum cleaner? A jukebox? Inquiring minds want to know. After another Tuesday night of festivities, the machine has bumped and staggered to three more primary wins, pretty much ending whatever purpose there ever was to the candidacy of Rick Santorum \u2014 and have I mentioned recently what a colossal dick that guy is? \u2014 but it has done so in such a fashion that even Politico was only rather, sort of, almost, nearly impressed. (Here&amp;#039;s the lede from their post-game summary: &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s now really almost over.&amp;quot; Why, Willard, you won three primaries and nearly all the delegates? How perfectly adequate of you.) The central pivot to the whole thing was Wisconsin, where the politics are at a roiling boil, and where Romney finally and definitively committed himself to the budgetary extremism proposed by Paul Ryan, to the point where the zombie-eyed granny-starver signed onto the Romney campaign as the candidate&amp;#039;s permanent opening act, as well as to being a Man Of The Base. And there are some indications that the base is beginning to grumble its way into line; Romney was &amp;quot;competitive,&amp;quot; it is said, with Santorum among voters identifying themselves as evangelical Christians and/or &amp;quot;very conservative.&amp;quot; The cynical among us \u2014 okay, the cynical among me \u2014 feel inclined to point out that all this may prove is that, eventually, if you truckle long enough and hard enough, you become your pander. This has become lost in all the horse-race coverage, and this will continue to be lost because all the attention over the next couple of weeks is going to center on the &amp;quot;positioning&amp;quot; for the general election, a smattering of wild-assed speculation about the vice-presidency, and the lingering death-watch on the Santorum campaign. The former will be the candidate&amp;#039;s most effective camouflage; can Romney &amp;quot;tack to the center&amp;quot; now that he&amp;#039;s nearly, almost, perhaps clinched his nomination? Can he &amp;quot;define himself&amp;quot; before the White House defines him? (I like his chances here. Not only will the elite political media do most of the work for him, but Romney has had a five-year head-start on redefining Willard Romney.) After nearly six years of trying, Romney finally and definitively &amp;quot;closed the deal&amp;quot; \u2014 he&amp;#039;s completely sold himself out. That&amp;#039;s the only story worth talking about, now that we&amp;#039;ve almost, nearly, perhaps reached Opening Day. That said, I think it&amp;#039;s time to update the recommendations I made last month. To pull off as shameless and utterly unprincipled a &amp;quot;pivot&amp;quot; as the one that is being proposed by the various handicappers on the bus would tax even the formidable internal guidance system of the Romneybot 2.0, for which being shameless and unprincipled is the only one of its prime functions that has worked perfectly throughout the campaign. The only way I see of doing it is to be so honest about being shameless and unprincipled that the whole wide world is so impressed by the sheer magnitude of your big, clanging brass balls that it forgets that you&amp;#039;d sell Massachusetts to the Somali pirates for five more points in next month&amp;#039;s Gallup poll, or 250 votes in Alabama. (I researched this phenomenon closely over the weekend, watching John Calipari win a national championship.) So, now that it&amp;#039;s very nearly, perhaps, almost, sort of Opening Day, let me suggest a &amp;quot;Big Speech&amp;quot; the candidate can deliver some time over the next three weeks, when nothing is really going on, and all that&amp;#039;s left to the campaign is empty bloviating (Hi, Newt!) and bitter recrimination (or, as it is known around the Santorum household, Our Reason To Live.) Give it to &amp;#039;em between the eyes, Willard: &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m Willard Romney, bitches, and how you like me now? &amp;quot;See what I did there on Tuesday night? I hammered those punks like ten-penny nails into a wedge of fine cheddar. I am a strong, able Republican with more money than God and an even greater taste for mindless destruction and casual vengeance. I am not a jack Mormon. I am a gangsta Mormon, motherfkers, and the country is my bling. I am Moroni&amp;#039;s Omar. I am the Stringer Bell of the Great Alkali Plain and the world is mine, whenever I want it. Come at the king, you best not miss. I&amp;#039;ll bury your ass like I buried Santorum&amp;#039;s, under so much money that nobody will ever find it, even though I hear it glows red in the dark every time someone mentions The Pill. I bought me a Wisconsin and a Maryland and a D.C., although I am aware that even my wealth \u2014 and have you noticed that I have $250 million stashed away for a rainy fking century? \u2014 wouldn&amp;#039;t be enough to carry The District in the general. But all I really have to do is spend enough to carry 51 percent of the Green Rooms there and I&amp;#039;m home fking free. And I can do that. Chuck Todd&amp;#039;s already halfway down into my vest pocket, looking for loose doubloons. And you know why? &amp;quot;Because I&amp;#039;m Willard Romney, bitches, and I can buy and sell your great-grandchildren and you won&amp;#039;t even know it happened. &amp;quot;You actually think I believe some of jive I&amp;#039;ve been running this year? That&amp;#039;s the part of you that I fking own now. You think you own me, but I own you, motherfkers. None of your heroes took the field, and everyone else who did was a clown. Meanwhile, I&amp;#039;m spreading green like I&amp;#039;m Vigoro and today, you look up and it&amp;#039;s me or That Person in the White House, and you&amp;#039;re all quivering in your Sansabelts. Don&amp;#039;t you fools understand? I bought your party. You hated me. You distrusted me. And now you have to vote for me. See how that happens? Happens all the time with me. The Supreme Court put your party up for auction and I was the high bidder, and I was the high bidder because I&amp;#039;m Willard Romney, bitches, but you can call me, &amp;quot;Sir.&amp;quot; (I mean, brokered convention? Get real.) &amp;quot;I can do what I want. Don&amp;#039;t you get that yet? I win, and I&amp;#039;m the president. I lose, and I&amp;#039;m walking a beach in California, with $250 million reasons to do absolutely nothing, and you&amp;#039;re back home in the underwater split-level, sending your money to TV preachers, waiting on hold for Rush, and dreaming sweet dreams about the former governor of Alaska. (You see what that dingbat suggested just now? Allen West for vice-president? Thank your personal gods for me, motherfkers, because, if you ran her, we&amp;#039;d lose 50 states, and Saskatchewan and Alberta would vote against her just for fun.) I need you people for precisely eight more months. Then, either I win, or I&amp;#039;m gone like your 401K; you&amp;#039;re all Ampad and I clean up, selling you off like unprofitable divisions, and you know why? Because I&amp;#039;m Willard Romney, bitches, and I&amp;#039;m all you got left. &amp;quot;You think I&amp;#039;m going to enact that whack budget from the creepy guy who dug up Reagan&amp;#039;s hair and pinned it to his head? The whole point of that pile of dung is to make guys like me more like guys like me. But I&amp;#039;m doing fine right now. I&amp;#039;m going to be the guy who shuts down 200 national parks? Yeah, that&amp;#039;ll happen. You think I&amp;#039;m gonna be the Republican who finally gets the deal done on abortion and contraception? You think I care about that? I don&amp;#039;t have the time for what people do with their junk. Look at where I stood when I ran in Massachusetts. Look at where I am now. You think I don&amp;#039;t know how to get back from where I am to where I was? I left breadcrumbs, fools, and they all had the face of U.S. Grant on them. What I dropped to mark the trail could keep you suckers in Velveeta for a decade. &amp;quot;Tell you what I&amp;#039;m really going to do. I&amp;#039;m gonna be Ike. Seriously, my pops liked Ike. The country liked Ike. Sensible Main Street Republican, that&amp;#039;s me. Gonna dig me up some Robert Taft, maybe some of that Nixon where he cooked up the EPA, and go all Rocky up in your grills, and that&amp;#039;s Rocke-FELLER, bitches, not Balboa. I&amp;#039;m keepin&amp;#039; it real. I&amp;#039;m kickin&amp;#039; it old-school, Don&amp;#039;t think I can? Think you can stop my ass? Bring it, motherfckers. Bring Ryan or Daniels, or ex-Governor Simpleton. I can spend them into the ground. I can buy and sell every damn one of them, and the ones I can&amp;#039;t buy or sell I can hang out to dry because I just don&amp;#039;t give a good goddamn. I&amp;#039;m gonna have a great life when Paul Ryan&amp;#039;s pitching his ideas on Fox every Sunday morning. Your party&amp;#039;s mine now because I&amp;#039;m not just the new sheriff in town, I&amp;#039;m the motherfking landlord here. Have you looked around? I&amp;#039;m all you got left because... &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m Willard Romney, bitches, and how you like me now?&amp;quot; Sources have told the blog it is unlikely that the Romney campaign will adopt this strategy. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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