Hello, human diary. It is I, Mitt Romney. I am writing on you from my plane, which is currently traveling to Las Vegas in order to meet up with Donald Trump for this mutual event I apparently had agreed to. It is times like this when I momentarily forget why it is I am even in politics. Then I remember the tax cuts, and how so much of my money is currently pining for me from the Caymans, unable to return home, and my resolve returns.
There is no way this will end well. It is all I can do to praise him in public, Mr. Diary, but please note that I am not actually an idiot, and therefore find the man tiring at best. Nonetheless, my advisers keep reminding me that I need the special kind of voter units that Mr. Trump appeals to: casual racists, people with low standards when viewing television, and people who are fixated on the wealth of others as a measure of their relative moral standing. I assure them that I could quite properly appeal to all these people on my own, but they feel it is better to engage a surrogate unit.
I do admit I see the appeal of this approach. Apparently Mr. Trump is continuing to babble on about birth certificates and Kenya even now. By appearing with him, I can look like I am in favor of these opinions even while my subordinates claim that I am not. If my understandings of human behavior are correct, this will enable both sides to assure themselves I am secretly on their side.
Still, the thought that I must associate with Donald Trump depresses me greatly, Mr. Diary. No: I must remember the tax cuts.
On the bright side, I expect this evening to have my status as Republican nominee confirmed officially. It will be the commoners in Texas who give me the final delegate units necessary, which I believe is fitting, as I previously met and defeated the leader of their state in electoral combat. A nice enough fellow, to be sure, but as dumb as a post. Still, he improved the debates greatly, in that he took up space and wasted significant time that otherwise would have had to be filled by me talking.
Addendum: We have just landed in Las Vegas, and are now taxiing on the runway. Oh, God, I see the Trump plane. We are parking right next to it. I just know he is going to insist I take a tour of the thing.
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