Dear Diary: A glorious day for my majestic self, with five fundraisers in Chicago including a $40,000 per ticket reception at my family home. The rich have their role to play in society, both as donors to my campaign and as plump teats at which the less-fortunate can suckle. Alas, Romney and Ryan invaded my dreams last night, exactly as I had feared. Even the powers of my back-up blankey, Boo-boo-two were not sufficient to keep them at bay. They danced around, shaking their perfectly-groomed heads, singing a raucus rendition of "Do the math, do the monster math." Fortunately I awoke before tumbling from the marital bed, attracting a posse of Secret Service agents. I start a three-day bus tour of Iowa tomorrow, bestowing my majestic presence upon diners and ice cream parlors from Council Bluffs in the west, east toward Dubuque and Davenport. I will seize every chance along the sway to warn the masses that electing Romney and Ryan will mean the end of civilization, if not the Earth itself.
