Ever since watching Spike Jonze's Being John Malkovich, I've had an unhealthy obsession with the idea of inventing some way to portal into the minds of public figures.
Sure, there have been personalities in the past who almost pushed me to pursue such a project – you know, the Sarah Palins, Rick Santorums, and Jen Rubins of the world. However, I never really reached that "Dude, you've so gotta do this" moment.
That is, until now.
What happened? Well, I was eating a late breakfast of Cocoa Puffs in my plaid bathrobe, scrolling through the latest headlines when I came across this:
Mitt Romney wants airplane windows to roll down in case of fire so people can breathe more easily.
Spitting brown milk across the room, I thought, "No. Fucking. Way." But sure enough, there it was, in black and white. Mitt wondered aloud why airplanes weren't made so that passengers could conveniently roll down the windows.
He said that. Out loud.
Rising from the couch and making a B-line to my mad-scientist lab in the basement, all I could think was, "If he says things like that aloud, just imagine what's going on behind closed doors in that brain of his!"
Luckily for me, the University of Utah had recently discovered cold fusion. And so, after generating enough juice with my cold-fusion-powered XBox Kinect and spending countless hours trying to penetrate Mitt's mind, I am here to say that I created a portal for the ages.
I. Got. Inside.
Now, before you get too excited, I was only there for eight minutes and forty-seven seconds. But holy spinning shitballs on a plate, it was a beautiful eight-plus minutes.
When I gained access, he was in some hotel room. Couldn't tell where exactly, but it doesn't really matter. Anyway, he was in a white dress shirt and brushing his teeth before a mirror. He's an intense brusher, by the way, which might explain what happened next. He lost his grip and the damn thing flew into the toilet.
Mitt was cursing up a storm, staring down at the thing. And then it came, this thought of his:
Why don't they have covers that go over toilets to keep things from falling in them that you don't want to fall into the water and get wet?
Now, I thought the guy was just joking – a bit of self-deprecation after the ribbing over his windows comment today.
Of course he knows some toilets have covers, I thought.
He's not serious, right?
Wrong.
And I soon learned that this guy, Mitt Romney, is a walking thought-emporium of greatness, his mind a cognitive Wal-Mart. Because looking down at the tooth brush, he thought:
Why don't tooth brushes have strings on them, like eye glasses, so you can put them around your neck? Then they wouldn't go flying all over the place.
Before I could even scream,
Dude, you don't want a rope around your neck attached to something you're vigorously shaking, Mitt wandered into the bedroom. He turned on the T.V. and flipped a bit until landing on one of those wild Japanese game shows where contestants are forced to do all sorts of fail-inducing feats. Mitt loved it, giggling up a storm until some poor guy was forced to balance on fitness ball standing up while dodging flying water balloons.
Mitt looked at the guy and thought:
Why don't our feet have wheels on the bottom? That would make things so much easier, like when you need to get somewhere real fast or have to balance on a fitness ball.
There was a knock on the door, which broke Mitt's revelry. It was room service. The guy who wheeled in the food was Latino. After he nodded and left (without a tip!) Mitt opened up one of the silver trays and thought:
Why can't I be Mexican? It would make my life so much easier.
I wanted to scream in his ear that he was being fucking
served food on sliver platters when he suddenly dropped the platter and screamed in pain. I guess a bit of steam escaping from one of the dishes got him, because he thought:
Why can't we make steam be cold instead of hot? That would make eating hot, cooked meals so much safer.
Why can't we make steam cold? I looked out upon the meal Mitt was about to eat, some filet of something or other, and just prayed my thanks for this man.
Thanks for this man whose brain I had suddenly entered. Thanks for this man who wants airplane windows to roll down and our feet to have wheels on them.
And as my portal's power ceased, as I began to be sucked back into my own head, all I could do was continue to give thanks.
Thank you, Mitt Romney, I thought repeatedly. Thank you for running for president.