So, the Boston Globe ran this article about Romney that wanted to boast about how great he is. How cool under fire he is. How he plans!

The white Chevy station wagon with the wood paneling was overstuffed with suitcases, supplies, and sons when Mitt Romney climbed behind the wheel to begin the annual 12-hour family trek from Boston to Ontario.

As with most ventures in his life, he had left little to chance, mapping out the route and planning each stop.

See what I mean? Come on now, “As with most ventures in his life, he had left little to chance”. So you can see what a great fucking hero he is.

Except then you keep reading.

Well, but first you have to hear what a hero he is.

If anything, 36-year-old Mitt, who had just been tapped to lead a new venture capital firm, was on track to achieve more at a younger age than his famously overachieving father.

His father had known poverty as a child, Mitt only privilege. His father had succeeded without a college degree while Mitt was launched with the finest educational pedigree. Given all his advantages, Mitt seemed restless to make his mark sooner.

Got that? He’s a hero and an amazing man because he wasn’t poor!

But then the TRUE HORROR begins.

Before beginning the drive, Mitt Romney put Seamus, the family’s hulking Irish setter, in a dog carrier and attached it to the station wagon’s roof rack. He’d built a windshield for the carrier, to make the ride more comfortable for the dog.

Woa! What? Hold on! He strapped a dog, in a carrier, to the roof of his fucking car? He made a “windshield”—and note we’re never told out of what or how so it could be a piece of fucking cardboard here—so the dog would like it more? Like being strapped to the top of a car in a plastic fucking box and driven hurtling down the road for 12 hours?

Does that seem humane to you? Does it seem like someone who actually cares? Better yet does that seem like smart forward thinking or does it, just maybe, smack of a ruthless idiot who doesn’t really think about much except the people who can talk back directly to him?

And now, the point of the story:

As the oldest son, Tagg Romney commandeered the way-back of the wagon, keeping his eyes fixed out the rear window, where he glimpsed the first sign of trouble. ”Dad!” he yelled. ”Gross!” A brown liquid was dripping down the back window, payback from an Irish setter who’d been riding on the roof in the wind for hours.

As the rest of the boys joined in the howls of disgust, Romney coolly pulled off the highway and into a service station. There, he borrowed a hose, washed down Seamus and the car, then hopped back onto the highway. It was a tiny preview of a trait he would grow famous for in business: emotion-free crisis management.

Got that? EMOTION FREE CRISIS MANAGEMENT. He straps his dog to the roof of a car, in a plastic box, for hours and when the dog shits and pisses all over itself, the carrier and the car, Romney gets out a hose and blasts the dog clean. Giving the dog the exact same thought and consideration he gives the carrier and the windshield of the car.

Is that “emotion-free crisis management”? Or, now stay with me here, is it possibly “sociopathic”, “cruel”, “heartless”, “insane” and maybe just “bugfuck nuts”? Pick your favorite.

How the hell can they sell this story as a good thing? “Look, voters! This candidate tortured an animal for hours, see how that makes him a good choice to lead the country!” Uhm. No, not really…

Given how he treated this dog, consider how he would treat people he doesn’t even know or like. I can’t imagine it would be good.