Remember back in 2012? It was a simpler time. We were choosing between Mitt Romney and incumbent Barack Obama for the highest office in the land. I’m sure we rolled our eyes a lot, maybe at both candidates, but as far as we know, neither of them ever had to pay hush money to porn stars. Then 2016 happened, and our lives have been in a downward spiral ever since.

Mitt Romney may have been able to stop all that. Back then, he could have ran for president for the 4.5 millionth time (rough estimate), and maybe that strong jaw and great hair of his would have finally resonated with the American public, and after all those countless millennia of trying, he finally would have taken his oath of office and become our 45th U.S. President.

What would that world have looked like? President Romney, just all up in that Oval Office, being the Commander in Chief, having foreign leaders like the dude from France over to talk about whatever it is that heads of state talk about when they get together. (Maybe they don’t even talk about anything important. Maybe they just say stupid shit that men in power say like, “HOW’S THE WIFE” and “THIS IS A GOOD SCOTCH” and “SOMETHING REFERRING TO GOLF.” And then they go in front of the press and lie about how much they accomplished. I mean, that’s what most people do at their jobs, right? Dick around for a few hours and do a little bit of work here and there and then exaggerate about how much shit they got done? Why should people in power be any different? Why is this parenthetical so long?)

I probably would have had something pithy to say about it, too. Like, “Oh here’s President Romney doing something I don’t agree with again, because I could never agree with anything President Romney does because I’m so liberal and shit and I’m jealous that I went bald at 25 and he’s got this awesome head of hair at age 71.”

It almost seems pleasant.

We never had a chance to know what the United States of Romney would look like, because for some reason, the guy who ran for president, like, a gajillion fucking times, decided in 2016 that he just didn’t want to have one more ride on the merry-go-round, so we got stuck with yahoos like Ted Cruz and Donald Trump.

I suppose I could be OK with his decision if he really wanted to retire. I mean, even though his awesome hair might lead you to think otherwise, he’s old enough to collect Social Security (if that hasn’t been dismantled yet). But no, it turns out that the only things that are going to survive the nuclear holocaust are the cockroaches and Mitt Romney’s insatiable need to run for stuff. When Orrin Hatch, 84 yet still with a fuller head of hair than I have, decided that he wasn’t going to seek re-election as senator from Utah, Romney decided to throw his hat into the race. Hatch, who has represented Utah in the U.S. Senate for more than 40 years, even more or less hand-picked Romney to succeed him. On top of that, President Trump, who Mitt called a con-man during the 2016 campaign but has since kissed and made nice with, endorsed the former governor of Massachusetts and perennial presidential candidate. However, in spite of all that, Romney’s path to the Senate will not be an easy one. This past weekend, Romney lost a bid to avoid a primary at Utah’s Republican convention. Romney garnered only 49 percent of the vote, far short of the required 60 percent to shore up the state’s GOP nomination for senator.

Earning 51 percent of the vote at the convention was Romney’s chief competition for Hatch’s soon-to-be vacated seat, Mike Kennedy (not to be confused with all the other Kennedys). Currently representing Utah’s 27th district in the state’s House of Representatives, Kennedy isn’t a figure of much national note. He, for instance, hasn’t run for president a flufflillion times. He did, however, gain some attention when he went on record saying that Utah’s expansion of Medicaid was actually putting people in danger, because people die of medical malpractice, which sadly isn’t the craziest thing I’ve heard come out of a politician’s mouth in the past few years.

Shit’s bonkers out here now, Mitt. There’s no place for your relative normalcy and awesome politician hair in this ornery political climate. We’re doomed, dude. The sooner we all start realizing that, the better.

We were almost safe! The world seems to be spiraling out of control and ready to collapse at any moment, but we almost had ourselves a real savior! He’s tall, famous, incredibly wealthy, some might say dashing and he has a healthy fear of God. With stats like that, you’d think I was talking about Uncle Sam himself, but I’m not. No, the man that was going to save this country was none other than Willard “Mitt” Romney, and he might have been President of the United States of America if you all weren’t a bunch of stupid, mean jerks!

You are not caught in a time warp. This is not 2008. Nope, not 2012 either. That’s right, the Romneybot almost ran again. He was so close to proving the theory that the third time truly is a charm by taking another crack at the presidency in 2016. It was going to be so exciting! Now he changed his mind, and I have to cancel my “Romney 2016” face tattoo appointment this week. It was really going to make my face just pop!

There was a lot to be excited about, after all. Romney had promised to make ending poverty the central focus of his campaign. He also planned to put his private and religious life into the forefront for the public to see, which probably would have been a hot mess. The Washington Post even went as far as saying, “Romney [was] determined to re-brand himself as authentic[…]” I don’t know about you, but to me, nothing screams, “authentic,” like a man re-branding himself every four years in the hopes of convincing enough people that he is one of them.

Of course, if you ask Mitt, he hasn’t changed at all. He is the same old guy he’s always been; he just wasn’t allowed to show us exactly who that was until now. Romney claimed his advisers told him not to be himself in his previous campaigns, which begs the question, why not? If Mitt is such a normal, everyday Joe Six-Pack (albeit of nonalcoholic, non-caffeinated, unsweetened, unflavored, lukewarm tap water), why would his campaign advisers want to hide that from the public?

After all, for the most part, likeable people win presidencies. JFK was not the savvy politician that people remember, but people liked him (Lee Harvey Oswald and Fidel Castro excluded), so he got elected. Same goes for Ronald Reagan. The Gipper was an actor before he was a politician, so he knew how to turn on the charm for the cameras. His policies did not do much to help the country, but people sure loved that warm smile and that friendly voice. In fact, they loved it so much that today he is practically a god on the right, despite all the harm he did. Barack Obama also knew that likeability helps, which is how he beat Hillary Clinton once and Mitt, twice, for the presidency.

Mitt took those lickings from two staggering defeats and claimed to have learned his lessons. This time around, he was ready to drink a beer (O’Doul’s) with your uncle, help your little sister get more followers on Twitter, and eat corndogs while singing, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” at the top of his lungs. He might have even allowed same-sex couples to hold hands in his presence if it got him to the White House, but it’s all for naught now.

Romney 2016 was going to show you that he puts his sacred garments on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us, and that it’s important that you hear how much he helps all of these poor needy Mormons out there. But what about the people who don’t subscribe to his faith? Was Mitt going to help them too? He said he was going to make poverty a central focus of his campaign, which sounds great. Unfortunately, given Romney’s history, this could have also just meant that he planned to call for the self-deportation of the American poor.

Even if he truly meant to “end poverty,” what would Mitt’s idea of helping the poor even look like? What does a man with a lakefront house, a beachfront house with a car elevator, a sprawling estate in Utah and an 8,700-square foot ski chalet know about being poor? Probably about as much as he knows about running for president, which appears to be jack shit. Sorry we won’t get to see the train wreck of a campaign you were about to run, Mitt! I’m keeping my fingers crossed for 2020!

-Bocephus Chigger
bocephus@submergemag.com

I hear both presidential candidates going on and on about jobs. During the first debate, President Barack Obama touted that his policies have created plenty of jobs during tough financial times; meanwhile his opponent Mitt Romney blasted the president for not creating enough jobs and claimed that if he was elected, like everyone ever would be employed (paraphrasing)–even though he practically told the debate’s moderator Jim Lehrer that he’d probably be out of work after promising to cut PBS funding. I know unemployment is a problem, but a quick perusal of Craigslist.org shows that there are jobs everywhere, that’s even accounting the 70 or so percent of them that are probably pyramid schemes. And this time of year, there’s really no reason to be out of work. Sorry for the tough love but it’s true. Just bet on football like I do. Trust me, it’s a full-time gig.

Clearly betting on football is a big industry in this country. Everyone does it. Even my sister, who maybe has never sat through a full football game in her life, chips in for one of those Super Bowl box pools every year. The only reason why people were so pissed off about the replacement referees making up rules as they went along during the NFL officials’ labor dispute was because there’s so much money riding on even the most inconsequential and menial professional football game. It’s sort of the national pastime. So, since everyone does it, I’d like to think it’s legitimate work.

As the days grow shorter and the weather gets colder and 300-pound dudes don heavy armor and fly into each other at preternaturally fast speeds, I enter into self-employment. Though the season doesn’t start until September, I really get to work in August to prep my fantasy draft. I am in a points-per-reception, individual defensive player league, which basically means that I’m a nerd who plays in a league full of nerds. It’s also a keeper league, so I have to first think of which players from my previous year’s roster I’d like to keep for the next season, then I have to map out my draft strategy depending upon who’s available after the rest of the teams in the league have kept, taking my order in the draft and what holes I’ll need to fill into consideration. It keeps me up for hours looking at numbers and trying to find the story behind those numbers, such as, is this player on the way up? Does he have the team around him to put up better or worse stats than the year before? Does he have a history of injury? Is it in his character to do something utterly cruel and stupid like run an illegal dog fighting ring even though he’s a ridiculously well-paid athlete and clearly isn’t hurting for money? There are a lot of factors to consider.

Of course, you have to spend money to make money when it comes to betting, and that’s really all fantasy football is. It’s gambling just like calling up a bookie, except you probably won’t have to worry about the dork who’s your league commissioner breaking your legs if you don’t pay up. My league’s buy-in is just $60. It’s not a big money thing, but I’ve heard of leagues that play for some serious cash. The thing is, while even $60 may be a lot to toss away on a gamble, take into consideration that it’s a lot cheaper than buying a new suit for an interview and way less stressful. You can go to “work” in your underwear and drink a beer while you conduct your business. What’s better than that?

Once the season starts, shit gets serious. You have to hawk your league’s waiver wire, cut players from week to week, constantly check your stats while watching games, read injury reports. And this year fantasy football has taken up more time than ever as there are now games every Thursday (seriously annoying, because players who are banged up have less time to heal on short weeks, wreaking havoc on your roster). But you know, it’s a living. All it takes is $60 and a dream.

I’ve also entered a weekly football pool this year. A relative of mine convinced me to go in on a pick ‘em pool with him. He’s been doing it for years. He has charts and tables and numbers. He has five years of stats and figures that show which teams cover the spread and which teams don’t. He’s been doing it for years and has roped in a number of friends and relatives, and he keeps track of everyone’s picks and accumulates our wins and losses. He asked me to help him this year because he thinks I’m good at computers which means, he doesn’t use them so anyone who does must know what they’re doing (I don’t, really, but I can make a mean spreadsheet).

So now football betting really is a full-time job. With fantasy football, the results of games don’t matter, just so long as your players in that game have done well. Now, I have to worry about which teams won and by how much. I watch every post-game and halftime show. I actually pay attention to Monday Night Football instead of just drinking my face off. Well, I mean, I still do that too, but it’s cool because I’m on the job.

-James Barone
jb@submergemag.com

I told the doctor I’ve been feeling different for the past week or so. He checked my pulse, dilated my pupils, lit up my ears and began asking about my symptoms. “An increasing desire to work out, strong national pride, an eye for fashion and a sudden interest in sports,” I said. After asking where I’m from and checking my hormone levels for any irregularities, Doc came to the conclusion that I, in fact, had acquired Olympic fever.

It made total sense. The 2012 Summer Olympic Games hooked me from day one with its bizarro opening ceremony. The English are brilliant! The dancing sick children were a nice touch, but I was more enthralled with the overall message. Who knew the solution to our healthcare problems was to set loose a swarm of Harry Potters’ Mary Poppins’ own Valdemort and his minions? Thank you for showing us the way, Danny Boyle.

Once the games began, I started my search for the weird events. Fans and haters of Mitt Romney are probably aware that his wife’s horse is competing in dressage or “horse dancing.” I also saw a track event called steeplechase, where runners jump a few hurdles and hop over a wall into a moat, leaving them to run the rest of the next lap with soggy feet. I didn’t know adults still played field hockey, but after seeing the beautiful Dutch women’s team in their sexy school girl uniforms, I’d encourage all adult women to pick up the game.

The uniforms are part of the reason people watch the Olympics. There are perfect bodies in tight and/or skimpy clothing. The gawking potential is equally divided amongst the sexes, so for every hot field hockey girl, ladies get one spandex wearing, canoeing gold medalist with a boner.

Looking past short skirts and spandex dicks, these athletes need to be recognized for what they are: inspiring. Many of these Olympians spend their entire youths training for just one event. The odds of success are infinitesimal, but they push on because they believe in that remote chance.

Oscar Pistorius of South Africa believed in that chance, despite being a double amputee. Pistorius ran in the Men’s 400 Meter using prosthetic “blades” that were strapped to what remained of his legs. While he didn’t move past the semifinals, he did receive both a warm welcome and a fond farewell from the crowd and his fellow racers, one of whom even traded nametags with him at the end of the race. It was nice enough to warm even my jaded heart.

I noticed other changes in myself. I was proud of Team U.S.A.’s accomplishments, and I even began rooting for our country instead of just staring at the train wreck that we usually see when the Stars and Stripes are involved. I had almost forgotten what it was like to feel that way.

Of course, it’s easy to be proud when we are actually kicking ass. We beat ourselves in women’s beach volleyball to take silver and gold, killed it in women’s gymnastics and have managed to sweep up 20-plus track medals. Our greatest success thus far has been swimming, in which, at last count, we had won 30 medals.

Many of those swimming wins were sucked down the bowl of one Michael Phelps. Phelps plans to retire after these games as the world record-holder for the most Olympic Medals won. When asked why he wouldn’t return in 2016, Phelps told his NBC poolside interviewer that he had traveled the world, but had only seen black lines at the bottom of swimming pools. If that was my life, I would probably take bong loads in the off-season too.

Some people can’t wait until the off-season, though. Seventh place U.S. judo participant, Nicholas Delpopolo, just had to “accidentally” eat that bud brownie at his homey’s house before he left for the Olympics. He was expelled for testing positive for THC after he had already lost.

The Olympics can be a cold-hearted bitch like that, but there are things that can make it more fun. Serena Williams showed the world that gold medal winners should C Walk after they win. We could give out medals for that too!

If dancing ain’t your thing, maybe we could take the original Greek idea and throw in a little Roman Coliseum action. We could add snake pits for the gymnasts, sharks in the pools, lions on the track and humans vs. humans on the gun and archery ranges. Or if that’s too nuts, we could just have regular people doing the events next to the pros so people at home can see what being an Olympian truly means.

-Bocephus Chigger
bocephus@submergemag.com

The 2012 Presidential elections are just around the corner, but you already know that. Unless you’ve been hiding out in your doomsday shelter for the past four years, you’ve watched the Republicans squirm in their seats, cry like babies and demand that they be put in charge. Well, their chance is finally here as the Republican primaries are officially under way.

Voters have already spent months smelling each candidate’s shit, trying to see which one’s stool contains more corn and less terrorism. At this point, we’ve heard the policy positions (and the lack thereof) and talking points. We’ve witnessed the hand shaking, baby kissing and back peddling. And yet, do we truly know these would-be giants?

In an effort to paint a more complete picture of our next president, I did some digging into the pasts of each remaining Republican candidate. With my supreme journalism skillz, no detail was left unturned. I have dug into the cores of these men, and now I share what I’ve found with you.

John Huntsman has secretly accepted the fact that he won’t be President of the United States, but he has not yet given up on New Hampshire. His third-place primary finish in the Granite State made Huntsman believe that he can convince New Hampshirites to secede from the Union in 2012. If successful, Huntsman will name himself Supreme Leader of New New Hampshire and he will rule until his death.

Did you know that Rick Santorum has a secret past? Santorum was left at the doorstep of a Muslim couple as a baby. Mr. and Mrs. Leekee named their new son Anile. In his early twenties, Anile had a falling out with his parents as he felt that Islam was not strict enough on women and too accepting of homosexual values. Anile threw on a sweater vest, changed his name to Rick Santorum and put the whole mess behind him for the rest of his life.

Who needs life when you can be a machine? Mitt Romney’s systems were first initialized thousands of years ago on the planet Cybertron. Back then, he was known as Romnemus Prime and he was the keeper of the Creation Matrix (or “Allspark” as the teens call it). He gave life to thousands of machines; at least he did until he fell under the influence of the Decepticons and was banished from the galaxy.

Romnemus Prime crash-landed near what is now Boston. Some MIT grad students discovered him about 100 years later. The students reactivated his systems and began teaching Romnemus Prime how to be human-ish. When the training was complete, he thanked the school by changing his name to Mitt.

Not to be out science-fictioned, apparently Ron Paul is a time-traveling, Nazi scientist. In 1945, Paul built and successfully tested a time-traveling zeppelin filled with racist newsletters. Arriving in 1997, Paul snuck across the Mexican border and began distributing newsletters in Texas. His blend of racism and fiscal conservatism really spoke to the people, and before long he was elected to represent Texas’ 14th Congressional District.

Rick Perry used to be on death row. He faced the electric chair in 1985 but somehow managed to survive the experience. Tanned and salt-cured like beef jerky, Perry was left with no prior memories and little actual education. Perry was accepted to Texas A&M immediately on a full scholarship and eventually graduated Magna Cum Laude. When asked today to name his proudest moment, Perry would likely answer the day he got his “Magnet Cum Ladle.”

Despite being pumped full of electricity, Perry has endured. When faced with adversity themselves, others, like Newt Gingrich, haven’t been so lucky. Gingrich was repeatedly dropped on his head…as an adult. Newt has an adult baby fetish and his bulbous frame has caused him to slip out of a few arm cradles in his day. Each blast to his massive baby head caused poor Newt to flip policy positions and forget who his wife is. I looked into whether this was also the reason Gingrich is such a dick, but it turns out he has just always been that way.

Given the nature of these shocking discoveries, I have no doubts that their publication will change the outcome of the 2012 presidential election. The Republicans have their work cut out for them if they hope to make one of these magnificent bastards our next president.

*Relax, it’s a joke dumbass.