He is arguably the worst vice-presidential candidate in modern history -- which is saying a lot, given the list includes a half-term half-wit, a guy who can't spell, a mafia moll and someone who was officially disbarred by the State of Maryland.
He delivered arguably the most dishonest vice presidential acceptance speech in the history of the nation. ("Delivered" probably isn't the right word. Not the right image. It was more like the words swelled from the congressman's mouth like a sea of blackened slime oozing from the deepest pit of hell. There. That's better.) Closing the GM plant? Medicare reductions? Simpson-Bowles? Look, journalists write books about this stuff. Scholars teach it in political science classes. The fluency of Paul Ryan's mendacity is an object of study around the globe. What issue is he not capable of twisting into unrecognizable ugliness?
But here's the kicker: Ryan calls himself a Catholic. Yeah, you know, all that "blessed are the meek" nonsense. Wrote a book about how his faith informs his politics. Naturally, it's full of distortions and half-truths -- this is Paul Ryan we're talking about. (Economist Paul Krugman calls Ryan a flat-out "fraud." Ouch.) But the whole point of the book -- and of Ryan's career for that matter -- is to champion far right, ruling elite-favored policies by dressing them up in the robes Jesus wore. Making penury look like tough love and hoarding charity. Which is why Ryan can say deeply un-christian things and not be told to go sit in the corner. For example: gutting government programs that feed and house the poor is actually a way to "help" the poor by "not making [them] dependent on government." Oh boy.
Imagine if Ryan actually had to speak to you-know-who about you-know-what. Imagine how that conversation might go . . .
A near empty gym. Helmeted police in riot gear guard the doors. Rep Ryan leans over a weight bench, curling 2lb
bells. Then suddenly, as if by magic,
Jesus Christ appears.
JC: Hey you! Yeah, you! With the hat on backwards!
PR: ... one ... two ... three ...
JC: It's time we had a talk.
PR: Excuse me. This is a restricted area.
JC: Not any more it isn't.
PR: Guards! Guards!
JC: Never mind them.
Jesus pulls up a chair.
JC: (cont'd) This is between you and me.
PR: I'm sorry. Do I know you?