Inception, perception or misconception?

Mitt Romney is so gaffe-prone in popular discourse that he appeared as such in a dream of mine yesterday (I had been reading about the Georgian portraitist George Romney a few hours earlier which may have informed my subconscious).  Nitts Romney (for like the scalp-loving parasite that infests child follicles, despite everything, he does prove resilient) wasn’t there at the start as far as I can remember and there was an element of transmogrification as a corridor with posters became a doctor’s surgery waiting room, which in turn became a political surgery space.  Tim Pawlenty, before Paul Ryan’s acceptance a possible VP running mate for Nitts, showed up, droning.  Then the Nittster arrived in all his teak manner, consigning Pawlenty to the sidelines and ultimately out of the narrative (how appropriate as things turned out).  Someone asked the Republican candidate about the tight polls between him and Barack Obama.  The Nittster intoned “the polls only matter on the day you become president,” suggestive that they would be the cherubs garlanding his feet as he ascended to The White House.  Then goofily, in a way reminiscent of Texan governor Rick Perry’s implosion in the primaries, he pulled a silly face as he remembered his political history – the spirit of Thomas Dewey, the failed Republican candidate of 1948 who was predicted to win, was abroad in the Nittster’s mind and he stammered, “Er, I mean, the polls only matter when you are president.”  It was not so much the words as the whole bumbling demeanour, like a stick of rock with incompetence stamped right through it and adding another layer of flip-flopping for the Etch-a-Sketch candidate.

Later, as events took me away from his person, a restaurant scene unfolded and someone went to the toilet to wash their hands.  As the turn tap came loose, it began gushing water everywhere and was impossible to shut off.  Looking at the pipes below the basin for a valve (none were there), a little plaque affixed to the wall there named the company who fitted it, the words standing out as ‘owned by Bain Capital’, the Nittster’s old vulture capitalist stamping ground.  Obviously, the investment group’s evisceration of companies had let the contract to a know-nothing yet cheap, new firm installing the tap.  Just figments of my imagination of course, yet it is indicative of the impression that the Nittster and his team give off to others.