Different Day, Same Shit.

Placidly staring from the barred windows of his fortified enclave in the untamed hills of La Jolla, former noble Willard Milton Romney of the Massachusetts Commonwealth, past aspirant to the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic had plenty to ponder this Christmas day. Shorn of his nobility, his lands relinquished and chased by ravenous peasant hordes, the former noble has had to adjust to a life of non-nobility, a world where servants would no longer answer to his beck and call and then spit at the ground derisively once they were safely out of sight.

On November 4, 2012, "America died." And along with it died the political hopes and aspirations of the former Sir Willard. Immediately upon his inglorious defeat by the treacherous Marxist usurper Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya, current Chief Administrator of the American Republic, Sir Willard was unceremoniously stripped of his nobility and his trappings by Lord Sheldon Adelson, Lords David and Charles Koch. Other fellow nobles turned their backs on him after funneling hundreds of millions of dollars towards the effort to help Sir Willard defeat the captivatingly Kenyan crook.

Since being dispossessed of his rightful inheritance, the once-proud noble has had to contend with the trappings of mere middle-class peasantry. Sans servants, the former noble struggled to relearn many of the day-to-day tasks that he and his family took for granted. For instance, he learned what a "Costco" was and managed to complete an entire shopping trip on his own without knocking over the store displays in sheer amazement or cackle at the store staff called to clean up the mess.

In another middle-class milestone, he managed to refuel his own personal conveyance without splashing any on neighboring vehicles or setting himself ablaze. His faithful and trusting steed Ralfalca was no longer with the former House Romney, as he was sadly attacked and eaten by ravenous peasants during their escape from the District of Columbia after being withdrawn protection by the Secret Service.

After the palatial Romney estate in Massachusetts was burned to the ground in a fit of celebratory violence by Holder's People, bolstered in ranks by a seemingly never-ending stream of threatening 17 and 18-year-old negros armed with codeine-laced sodas, bottled iced teas and colorful candies, the remainder of the Romney family joined their disposed patriarch for something resembling a Christmas dinner. Lady Anne was particularly beside herself with the loss of Ralfalca and her kitchen staff, preferring to remain dazed on the confines of a Ikea fainting couch, which was nowhere near as plush as the 18th century sofa that was sadly left to the devices of the horde.*

Picking at the near-inedible remains of a Lean Cuisine dinner, Willard reflected on how his inevitable victory turned into an awe-inspiring defeat. Perhaps he was too harsh, aloof and cold to the peasantry. His attempts to reassure his wealthier supporters had ignominiously created the "47%" specter that haunted him throughout the rest of his campaign. His insults of cherished television characters, his penchant for mind-boggling gaffes and constant, alienating arrogance must have played a role in turning the people against him. It was that or the Marxist dictator-in-chief showering minorities and women with elaborate gifts of fried chicken and contraceptives, an event immortalized by many observers as the "Cluck'n Fuck" campaign.

But Willard was never good at self-reflection, so he disposed of his microwaved meal and wordlessly walked to the balcony of his newfound abode to stare despondently at the poors below. Young Tagg breathlessly mused out of earshot that his father's heart was never really in the election to begin with. The former noble wistfully dreamed of his coronation on the White House lawn as the true ruler of the American Republic, a man who would finally overthrow the Marxist usurper and take his rightful place as the ultimate ruler of this nation and its massive imperial overseas holdings. Instead, he only has a mere mansion overlooking the sea, filled with a dispossessed and temporarily embarrassed family and an uncertain future ahead of him.

Some Christmas this turned out to be.

*Lady Anne's fainting couch was later found under a CalTrans bridge in San Francisco, thoroughly stained by liquor spills and heavy bouts of soiling. It's not clear how it managed to travel over 3,000 miles cross-country.

Today is the day. This is the moment Sir Willard Milton Romney, the most noble former leader of the Massachusetts Commonwealth, aspirant to the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic, has been waiting for.

This morning, random locations all across the American Republic opened themselves to the teeming peasant masses in anticipation for Election Day. Today is the day the peasants think their votes matter most. However, thousands of people loyal to the knighted noble are working behind the scenes to ensure his victory over the hated Marxist Usurper, Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya, current Chief Administrator of the American Republic.

With his recently-crafted fencing sword in hand and a jubilant smirk, Sir Willard rides bravely into the electoral fray to meet the odious Socialist in battle. Stay tuned.

The treacherous Marxist Usurper, Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya, current Chief Administrator of the American Republic, has always maintained his place of birth as the former Kingdom of Hawaii, despite proof to the contrary of his actual birth in the deepest, darkest regions of central Africa. The Most Noble Willard Milton Romney of the Massachusetts Commonwealth, aspirant to the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic, has finally uncovered evidence of Obama's true birthplace, as seen in the above footage.

Sir Willard gained the footage from a peasant who claimed his occupation to be a traveling used marital aides salesman. The salesman was accosted on his journey through the strange and mysterious continent by a random passerby who was later rewarded handsomely with several 14-inch rubber penetrative devices. Taken from Super 8 footage that was somehow processed through a potato and later transferred onto VHS tape, the footage finally confirms what patriotic Tea Partiers and viewers of Fox News knew all along.

Earlier attempts to prove Obama's true birth circumstances proved futile after genuine copies of his birth certificate were deemed false and attributed to prankster peasants who claimed to have faked those copies. Some time ago, the treacherous Marxist Usurper himself revealed a very-much falsified long-form birth certificate, which states his birthplace as "Honolulu, Hawaii." Sir Willard spoke out in protest during the reveal, stating that "we all know that Honolulu doesn't exist. It's just a made-up fairy tale place from a fairy tale president."

Young Tagg Romney, son and heir apparent to The Most Noble Willard Milton Romney of the Massachusetts Commonwealth, aspirant to the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic, expressed shock and dismay at his father's treatment at the hands of the the treacherous Marxist Usurper in chief, Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya, during an interview with peasant radio host Bill LuMaye of WPTF-AM, a station located somewhere in the uncivilized wilds of North Carolina.

While attempting to communicate to ignorant peasants the rigors of royal life, Young Tagg elucidated his disdain for the Kenyan by expressing a desire to punch the man square in his smug, socialist face. He further remarked that despite his overwhelming desire to physically put the uppity suspected immigrant in his place, he could not do so for fear of the Secret Service forgetting who he is and issuing a severe beating on the Marxist Usurper in chief's behalf.

After word reached Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya, he responded by saying he'll "have Romnesia get at him" at some point, referring to the long-lost 33-year-old daughter of Mitt Romney and an as-of-yet unidentified woman of Negro heritage, presumably conceived during an illicit affair carried out sometime between 1979 and 1982. How the socialist Kenyan came to know Romnesia remains a mystery, although many suspect it involves strip clubs and copious amounts of Church's Chicken.

Lady Anne Romney, the ceremonially ordained help meet of The Most Noble Willard Milton Romney of the Massachusetts Commonwealth, aspirant to the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic, has officially retired to her chambers after a most unfortunate episode involving herself and the ungrateful peasantry littering the countryside.

Previously, Lady Anne suffered a bout of exhaustion while condemning the odious actions of the peasantry made against the Honorable and Right-Leaning Noble, who only sought to look after the interests of the impoverished common peoples in addition to his own. After taking to a nearby fainting couch, she bravely ventured alongside her husband, the ever-noble Sir Willard, into the desolate wilds of Omaha. Omaha's better known for being the only place where a noble cannot find a decent steak, despite the presence of a nearby plant that specializes in delivering horsemeat to starving peasants nationwide, with said meats labeled as "steaks."

"Good thing we didn't bring Rafalca along for this journey," noted Sir Willard, who made a mental note of where to send the currently healthy dressage horse for a "dignified retirement" when the time came.

Unfortunately, the controversy surrounding her attempts to put the savage peasantry in their proper place caused her servants to abruptly cancel many of her scheduled appearances and interviews with cheaply dressed and foul-smelling common reporters. As soon as House Romney makes its return to the commonwealth, Lady Anne plans to retire to her chambers for the duration of Sir Willard's campaign for the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic.

Meanwhile, peasants in the inconsequential territory known as Iowa have already begun the process of voting, which apparently entails hitting themselves with hammers. Votes are tallied by the local bloodletter counting the number of lumps that appear on the voter's head after being struck -- one lump for the treacherous liar-in-chief, Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya, two lumps for an "independent" candidate consisting of a straw-stuffed scarecrow with a picture of the trickster outlaw Ron Paul and three or more lumps for Sir Willard.

The day nearly turned uglier than usual when one of Sir Willard's campaign aides was found wantonly attacking voters with a hammer. When interrogated, she claimed that she merely wanted to "move the voting process forward in her lord's favor." She was later slaughtered and turned into a lovely assortment of "Omaha Steaks."

Lady Anne Romney, also known to adoring peasants as "Anne of the Greenest Gables" for her impeccable co-owned dressage stable, implores the simple, ungrateful and unwashed peasants to stop bothering her husband, the Most Noble Willard Milton Romney of the Massachusetts Commonwealth, aspirant to the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic:

“Stop it. *sniff* This is hard. You want to try it? Get in the ring,” she said, while being fanned by several underpaid servants. “This is hard and, you know, it’s an important thing that we’re doing right now and it’s an important election and it is time for all you worthless peasants to realize how significant this election is and how lucky you people are to have someone with Mitt’s qualifications and experience and know-how to be able to have the opportunity to rule you all. *sniff* ”

Immediately afterwards, Lady Anne withdrew to her quarters, upon where she broke down and expired upon a plush 18th century fainting sofa.

Servants of House Romney are concerned how vexed these circumstances have made their fair lady and request that all subjects abide by her wishes as she recovers from this troubling ordeal.

Sir Willard expects to do battle with the treacherous Marxist Usurper, Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya, at some point as the date draws nearer for peasants to pretend their vote counts by dropping pebbles into a glass jar.

*Sir Willard's beloved fencing sword has yet to be found, although the honorable noble decided to just have another one handcrafted. Nevertheless, he's raised the bounty to $25,000 and a coupon for a three-piece chicken dinner with two sides and a soft drink from "Popeyes," a gesture suggested to him by his aides since certain classes of peasant have a deep-seated fondness for the fried dish.

The Most Noble Willard Milton Romney of the Massachusetts Commonwealth, aspirant to the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic, embarked upon a journey to the old Anglo-Saxon lands from whence he and his royal lineage hailed. The first stop on his expedition was the home of the long-reduced Commonwealth of Great Britain, where he would attend the internationally-known spectacle that was the XXX Olympiad, held in several quarters of London that were forcefully requisitioned from the local peasantry for this very purpose.

Before his departure, Sir Willard attempted to form common bond with the Anglo-Saxon peoples of both lands, rallying the Anglo-Saxons to arms against the much-loathed "leader" of the American Republic, the treacherous Marxist Usurper in chief, Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya. Sir Willard explained how the loathsome "leader" did not have the same special relationship with the Anglo-Saxon peoples, citing his "left-wing coolness" as a sign of hostility towards the historic group. Afterwards, a peasant of swarthy complexion attempted to assassinate the noble by unleashing several crates of rabid poultry. Sir Willard bravely escaped this attempt on his life, blaming the treacherous usurper for once again seeking to defeat his bid for Chief Administrator.

Upon his arrival, Sir Willard was feted at a special reception held in his honor by the administrators of the city and nation. It was here where he feasted on the finest of cheeses, wines and specially prepared "hoagies" airlifted at great expense from an "awawas," as he's become quite fond of the uniquely created foodstuffs. He was also on hand to view the curious spectacle of runners carrying a torch throughout the city, something he planned on having his servants replicate upon his return to his estate in the Massachusetts Commonwealth. He pondered how amusing it would be if he simply forwent the torch and had the servant set on fire instead.

However, all was not well, as the nobleman unknowingly created a series of terrible impasses during his time in Britain. During an interview with common newscaster Brian Williams regarding the XXX Olympiad's security, Sir Willard questioned the nation's readiness and its commitment to the Games, as he had yet to see any genuinely amusing sporting events like the 100 meter peasant toss, the 300 meter death dash or any sort of gladiator-type deathmatches. He was also disappointed how none of the constables charged with clearing out and keeping out the rabble had bothered to make examples by placing the heads of disobedient and disloyal peasants on spikes. His displeasure prompted a major outcry from the peasantry across the United Kingdom, causing consternation from the ruling class of the nation:

“It’s hard to know just how well it will turn out,” Sir Willard said about the London Olympics. “There are a few things that were disconcerting. The stories about the private security firm not beating enough peasants, the supposed disloyalty of the common help, the fact that there weren't enough French cheeses at the fete — that obviously is not something which is encouraging. Even the motorcade didn't have enough wine on hand. Someone please fetch me a handkerchief.”

“Do the rabble actually come together and celebrate the Olympic moment, or do they just keep throwing rancid meat pies or whatever at one another? That’s something which we only find out and have a good chuckle over once the Games actually begin.”

While Sir Willard was dismayed by the lack of necessary violence on part of the security forces, he was impressed by the deployment of missiles upon various rooftops throughout the area. Presumably these will be used to thwart the evil machinations of the socialist, Marxist usurper.

Lord David Cameron, currently in service to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II as the chief administrator and prime minister to the Commonwealth of Great Britain, reassured Sir Willard that there would be a greater stock of French cheeses and fine wine on later outings, but cautioned him not to make disparaging remarks of the Games in public, as it would further upset and enrage the peasantry, many of them armed with spoiled fruits, rancid meat pies and other unfortunate examples of British culinary cuisine.

Away from prying eyes and in the comfort of his specially prepared gin room, Lord Cameron was less than charitable with his remarks, according to a servant who was pressed into service as a footstool:

"We are holding an Olympic Games in one of the busiest, most active, bustling cities in the world, you bloody wanker. Of course it's easier if you hold an Olympic Games in the middle of a cornfield or whatever," alluding to Sir Willard's contributions to the Winter Olympiad held in his native Utah, which does not have corn*.

Meanwhile, the chief city administrator, initially mistaken as yet another rancid meat pie-carrying commoner, received word of Sir Willard's misguided commentary and thus rallied the already agitated peasants to fervor:

"Some toff by the name of Willard's goin' around callin' us a bunch of 'rancid pie-eating bastids.' We're the greatest fookin' city in the world and we gonna take that from some pompous tosser? Fook no! Are we ready to hold the greatest fookin' games in the bloody world! Fook yes!"

The chief city administrator, later identified as one "Boris Johnson," directed the crowd to toss their rancid meat pies and rotten fruits at a massive poster of Sir Willard Milton Romney, creating a stench that caused nearby nobles to take to their fainting couches for the remainder of the day. The peasants were later taken care of.

Alarmed by the consternation caused by his comments and the very real threat of being pelted with meat pies and murdered by rabid poultry, Sir Willard attempted to allay the peasantry with a boilerplate platitude designed to put the peasantry at rest, or at least get them to be angry about something else:

"I am very delighted with the prospects of a highly successful Olympic Games. What I have seen shows imagination and forethought and a lot of organisation from the peasants, something I wouldn't have dreamed of in a million lifetimes. Great work, peasants." The noble gave something vaguely resembling a "thumbs up" sign, fearing it would be misinterpreted as a gang sign or some such that would cause the local touts to take up arms. "I expect the Games to be highly successful, just as soon as I have my French cheeses."

Nevertheless, the uncouth Democrat delegations in America attempted to make light of Sir Willard's missteps, as addled minds such as theirs are wont to do. Meanwhile, the First "Lady" of the American Republic, the treacherous Marxist usurper's "baby mother" in colored street parlance, attempted to upstage Sir Willard by holding an interview done entirely in a "hip-hop" pantomime of some sort, further lowering the nation's already precarious international standing.

Sir Willard hopes the remainder of his expedition will be as uneventful as the time he and Lady Anne embarked on their honeymoon.

* But it does have Mormons, and that's okay.

The Most Noble Willard Milton Romney of the Massachusetts Commonwealth, aspirant to the position of Chief Administrator of the American Republic, was compelled to circulate among the common peoples in order to gain favor with his most devoted subjects as well as curry favor with other, less-devoted commoners. His hopes are to gain enough devoted followers to stage an overthrow of the treacherous Marxist Usurper, Baraq Hussein Superallah Obama al-Kenya. The Marxist Usurper gained his position under the false promises of giving each peasant family a warm meal three times per day, forty acres of land and a pony.

Sir Willard's brave expedition into the world of the common man led him upon a strange sight: a clearinghouse where foodstuffs were distributed to commoners in exchange for currency, or in the case of the peasants, a voucher signifying their fealty to the Marxist Usurper. When Sir Willard inquired as to what this place was called, one of his servants answered "awawas," presumably Indo-American peasant speak for "food store."

Sir Willard descended from his conveyance, careful not to step on anything that was too peasant-y, and entered "awawas," only to be amazed by what he saw. Fresh produce! Canned goods! Fresh meats! Air conditioning! These were things that Sir Willard had once only believed to be available to royalty such as himself, his wife and their beloved stable of dressage horses. Prior to this, Sir Willard thought the common people ate bark, dirt pies and occasionally, one another. This "awawas" amazed him so that he spent most of his time there prancing about the aisles, knocking over several displays while sampling several items, to the consternation of common shoppers and the servants employed by the awawas.

Sir Willard later recounted his experiences to a crowd of loyal supporters and peons graciously gathered from Sir Thomas Corbett's palatial estate holdings. He first asked them if they purchased their "hoagies," a peasant foodstuff made of several meats, vegetables and condiments within a loaf of oddly-shaped bread, at the place he came to call "awawas."

"I say there, peasants, where do you obtain these 'hoagies'? Do you get them at awawas? Is that where you obtain them?"

The peasantry delivered a resounding "NO!!" Amazed at the offense these mere peons had taken, Sir Willard then asked if they got their hoagies from another, smaller food store known as "Shitz." The peasantry became even more disgruntled. One peon was later caned for attempting to offer Sir Willard an old sandwich as a gift by tossing it at his head.

Sir Willard then went on to the amazement he experienced when ordering a common foodstuff. The awawas utilized a technologically advanced touch display that allowed commoners with a presumably high-enough IQ to select the type of sandwich they wish to purchase. Sir Willard was amazed by this discovery, as he believed these devices were the sole domain of royalty and that most peasants were simply too stupid to operate devices more complex than sticks, simple hand tools and high-gloss masturbatory aids featuring women of a rather corpulent size and shape.

"You press a wonderful little touch-tone keypad," Sir Willard said, referring to the chain's touch-screen system. "You touch this, touch this, disinfect your hands, have your servant offer currency to the cashier, and have him bring you your sandwich. It's amazing! I only wish an actual peasant presented this sandwich to me, then offered his own belly for me to stab him at with my fencing sword. Say, where is my fencing sword?*"

Sir Willard enjoyed his time pretending to bond with the lesser commoners while feigning interest and concern over their trifles. Hopefully, this will aid him greatly in amassing a large enough army of angry, firearm-wielding peasants to storm the Marxist Usurper's encampment in the Columbia District and overthrow the captivating Kenyan and his socialist lackeys. Hopefully, this army will be strong enough to challenge and defeat Holder's People, nearly all who have sworn their absolute fealty to the Usurper.

*Sadly, Sir Willard's crack team of security officials were never able to find his fencing sword and were subsequently hanged, as per royal decree. Presumably, this finely handcrafted sword was pawned in exchange for currency that was later used to purchase a substance known as "White Crack." There is now a $10,000 bounty for any peasant or commoner who knows the whereabouts of this cherished and beloved item. Sir Willard promises he will only execute those who come forward after they receive their reward, instead of before.