You may have noticed that all the conservative cats 'n kittens have been busy making an uneasy peace with the notion that the former governor of the People's Republic Of Obamacare And Gay Marriage is your Republican nominee for president of the United States. Just the other day, he met with some of the wilder fauna of the conservative biosphere, and he landed the endorsement of The Girl With The Faraway Eyes and, it is rumored, a full 60 percent of the voices in her head. A day earlier, both N. Leroy Gingrich and his ego also got with the program. At the moment, the only holdout is Rick Santorum, possibly because of what a colossal dick he is, and have I mentioned recently what a colossal dick he is? But he'll come around. He met with Romney just now, and it is rumored that Romney acceded to Santorum's demand for a speaking role at the convention to which Santorum will be carried on the sedia gestoria.

There has been some loose talk around about how this extended exercise has the capacity to make everyone involved in look even more ridiculous than the primary process did, largely because of all the mean things everybody said about Romney during the campaign. The whole ostensible point of the Gingrich, Bachmann, and Santorum campaigns was that Romney would lose to the president because, as La Bachmann always put it, he had unleashed "socialized medicine" in Massachusetts when he enforced an individual mandate that forced us all to do business with those Commie bastards in the health-insurance companies. Gingrich called him a liar on live television. Santorum made him talk about ladyparts and what the ladies do with them. This didn't leave a whole lot of common ground unscorched. Nonetheless, all of them seem now ready to go out there and fight for the ticket on the inspirational message, "Hey, he's better than what we've got now."

This seems insufficiently enthusiastic. I don't think Romney spent this kind of money to be treated like the green vegetables the Republican party has to eat before it gets its ice cream. So, one more time, I put on my speechwriting hat — it's a neat little derby, with a green feather — and suggest a possible national address that Willard can give to get himself — and all the goofy runners-up — out of this curious dilemma in which they find themselves. To wit....

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I'm Mitt Romney, bitches, and I'm all you've got left.