Zing! Went The Zingers From My Mouth And So Forth ...

Goshdarnit, youbetcha for the life of me across this great nation, when I was told Mitt Romney there was gonna use some zingers, (and I must say that among the Mary-add of things that I don't understand at all) I don't understand at all why his campaign crews didn't contact me about zinger stylins since I have left many trails behind me of zingers for more years than I care to remember since my facepalmified attempt with Jomcane the Mavrik and the blockhead Joe the Plumber failingly failed to take over the Senates and White House even though I did rehearse up so many zingers in my head and made them brayably along our wonderful countrysides with the amber grains of waves that I see with my own eyeholes from inside my One Notion bus when I manage to cram out my busy schedule of goin and doin the Fox answer-and-answer sessions where, again, my zingers are respected and laughed over plus the text-shines I get from Sean or Greta, with my expandin base draggin right behind me backin me up there in real America's face, however also, the stigmatosis of bein handed a big box of shutup and treated like Pariah Carey by Chris Christie at the RNC Committee Convention still follows me around like a bad fish doggonnit, I guess I’ll watch from my snidelines to get my thumbs ready to push in how Romney won like when I won mine verses Joe O’Biden.

I'm Laffin On The Outside, Spyin On The Inside Cause I Can't Get Inside And So Forth ...

Goshdarnit youbetcha it must be fun to be one of the insider people this time, invited to be inside the convention I mean, insteada lurkin outside in the rain from a big One Notion Bus like this year since they ran out of space for speaktalkin once Chris Christie took over the area that I and millions of others assumed I would be takin up like the last time over there, all shined up and strapped in with the Mavrik Jomcain and Joe The Plumber but now I just feel so drained since bein told to pipe down and plus also I'd have to wear a funnier nose and mustache glasses to snake past the bouncers because from what my sore says are textin me from their advantage points near the barbwire, there's a picture of me with a "DO NOT ADMIT HER IN" sticker slapped on it, pasted right across the mouth as things are gettin goin, with Mitt there talkin about all his negative and quite frankly, awful and terrible setbacks plus weak campaign slumps to sound like they were Obaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaama's fault which is how I remember us doin the blamey game when I used to get told those notes and rules before I was left in the lurch of my past sparkly glories, the dry dust of forgotten words and phrasemakins kicked up into my eye by the heels of our great forefathers and treated like that singer Pariah Carey Nation doggonnit, because they're afraid I'll go all rogue and bust up the place with an axe or some media grabbin poutlights or a Mister Miss Microphone to take away from the relevant talks that are scheduled then.