I expect to get angry letters from the baboon community excoriating me for equating their behavior with Donald Trump’s. And they’ll have a fair point.

Now that the nation is all but bereft of public arbiters of truth and decency, and the concepts themselves are in danger of having no practical meaning whatsoever, we are all but powerless to ignore, shun or to obliterate to deserved obscurity omnipresent ambulatory bacteria like Donald Trump.

He’s like a giant Baby Ruth floating in the swimming pool of the United States (See: Caddyshack), sending all the swimmers in the pool into a panicked rush to flee the water. Yes, the imagery is disgusting, and that pretty much conveys Donald Trump. While most Americans would rather have lepers, syphilitics and radioactive fish from Fukushima in their living rooms rather than this bulbous, orange Chia Pet, they can’t get him out of their lives short of renouncing television, and perhaps radio and the internet as well.

Then there’s Mitt. Like many Americans I already have a crick in my neck from attempting to watch how low the man will actually stoop. Yet there he is, voluntarily standing next to, fawning over and breathing air contaminated by Donald Trump. Since Vegas is home to spectacle, Romney’s handlers might as well as have brought out a bucket of maggots for Mitt to eat, since for several more potential votes from America’s entomological wonders inhabiting the underside of rocks, and convinced Obama is one of the giant tripods from War of the Worlds, Mitt will embrace any task at all, the more demeaning the better.

I have a very important memo for Mittens: The Karl Rove strategy from 2004 isn’t going to work. That strategery in a nutshell is that there are very few real independent voters in the electorate (that much is true) and if through a vigorous flinging of raw meat one is able to muster an outpouring of the like-minded, it will be enough to ensure a slim victory, yet a victory unachievable otherwise. But, unlike 2004:  We didn’t just start a war in Iraq; Romney isn’t the incumbent president; and the nation’s demographics have significantly altered. Other than that: you go, Mitt.

Still, for pure wonderment, Romney has both a carny fascination and is a remarkable biological novelty, 98% of his body comprised of cravenness.  In a profession where sliminess is included in the starter-kit, the man is a natural like few before him or after no doubt. Indeed Romney is as sad an example of deficient character as we have witnessed in a presidential candidate in a long time: nothing visible there but unmoored ambition, just a human blip of amorality and vacant integrity.

At this point the best one can say is that Donald Trump and his paramour Mitt Romney make a cute couple.