Mitt Romney and I have few things in common. We both underwent emotionally repressive religious upbringings. We’ve both owned property in the city of San Diego (I’ve done no research but I am pretty sure a 2009 Ford Escape and some Gilmore Girls DVDs count as “property”). We also both had a birthday this week. That is, however, where our similarities end.
If you’re reading this, chances are you saw the video yesterday of Mitt Romney being serenaded by his staff adorning upon him a towering sculpture in the shape of a birthday cake and in the medium of Twinkies. Out of each individual Twinkie stuck a lit candle. To provide a visual aide:
So, let’s talk about that. First of all, the level of hesitation on display from about :10-:26 is a big tell. It’s pretty clear we’re dealing with someone who is fundamentally unfamiliar with the cultural tradition of birthday candles. Speaking as a former Catholic school student with classmates whose parents forbade them to read Harry Potter for fear of them developing a curiosity about witchcraft, it is not entirely out of the realm of possibility that Mitt has never seen a birthday cake in action. You can almost read his entire internal monologue in those 15 seconds:
“Oh no, why are people so excited? Did Hillary tweet another Mean Girls gif?”
“What is that? Is that a bunch of Twinkies?”
“Are they on FIRE?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, am I supposed to put them out?”
“Do we just watch them burn until the flame reaches the Twinkies and starts to ignite, resulting in a burning ball of refined sugars and, I guess, formaldehyde, forming a noxious gas and eventually becoming our demise?”
“I can’t just stick my face next to all of them and expel a puff of carbon dioxide that came directly from my lungs, through my esophagus, and out my mouth. I mean, that would be disgusting. What if people want to eat the Twinkie cake?”
So, Mitt does what any person would do in that situation. One by one, he picked up each candle, careful not to touch the frosting, brought it to his face, keeping a safe distance between the candle and the cake, and extinguished the flame.
I should disclose that Mitt and I do not see eye to eye on many things. But without knowing the full story, I think it is unfair to judge his candle blowing approach. So, I will instead make wild and irresponsible speculations linked to his religious upbringing, because that is the only way to make his weirdo ass make sense to me. Everyone wish a happy belated birthday to Mitt Romney, and more importantly, to me, because I don’t have a staff that will bring me a sculpture of Twinkies set aflame and stand idly by while I give away the fact that I have never experienced the childlike joy of blowing out birthday candles to the merciless audience of Twitter. Then again, that’s probably a good thing.