Connie Schultz, white female version of The Giggler

I don’t like her her crazy eyes.

I don’t like her douchebag taxocrat husband, who invoked Godwin’s Law on the Senate floor.

Her sentimental drivel in PARADE magazine is a dull spoon.

Normally I just roll with it—-like reading Marmaduke as a knee-jerk reflex when I know it will create absolutely no mirth at all—-but this column stuck in my craw. I understand not liking Mitt Romney, I recognize the right to vote against him, but I HATE intellectual dishonesty, and painting Romney as a callous buffoon who has “written off” 47% of the nation is dishonest.

The column romanticizes the hard work of the wait staff, which is self-defeating, because Romney wasn’t talking about people who work hard.

I ask you also to consider what it must have felt like to be a server in that room. Imagine what it must have felt like to be those hourly wage earners listening to a presidential candidate depict them as lazy. Now multiply them by millions.

Schultz knows Romney isn’t talking about hourly wage earners; he wasn’t referring to retirees living on Social Security or people collecting Unemployment and temporary welfare.

Everyone knows someone–usually at the periphery of their circle–engaged in welfare fraud and faking disabilities. When I went to jury duty, a woman who worked for a company which sold motorized carts described ‘sick’ people literally springing into the dealership to get a taxpayer-funded cart. Everyone I know has at least one story of some vermin in line at the grocery, buying hundreds of dollars of steak and salmon with an EBT card, then hopping into a brand-new Caddy. Don’t get me started on the fucktards at the IRS, who sent refund checks to inmates in prison, and in one case, 2,300 people living at one address.

I shouldn’t have to resort to watching Charles Bronson kill The Giggler to calm down.  But that’s where we are as a nation.