Mitt Romney Vice President Choice -No Girls Allowed

So Mitt Romney has all but wrapped up the Republican nomination, and
its time to think about who will be his running mate.  Likely, he will
pick someone more conservative than he is perceived to be to bolster
the support of the Tea Party faction of the GOP, and maybe someone who
can help him in one of the states where the race is expected to be
razor thin between him and O'Bama.  While the independents went for
Obama last time, its expected that Romney will get his fair share of
those with his moderate policies.  Where he needs help is getting the
very conservative voters to get behind him with both their votes, and
their dollars.

This website believes that the ultea conservatives will come out in
droves on Election Day, not because of their love for Romney, but
more because they think less of the sitting president than even Mitt.

Will Paul Rubio be the choice ? Rubio actually thinks Jeb Bush would
be the ideal choice.  Chris Christie didn't want to run for prez but
he sure doesn't mind being thought of as a VP possibiltiy.  Dare
Romney go so far right as Paul Ryan of Wisconsin ?  Indiana Gov Mitch
Daniels and Virginia Governor Bob McDonnell are in the discussion.

This website wishes a common sense moderate like Mike Huckabee were
being considered, but common sense seems too much to ask.
Where are the women in the discussion?Sen. Kelly Ayotte of NH and Gov
Mary Fallin of Oklahoma ?  Not likely, and don't even think about
Sarah Palin.

Bruce Springsteen For President

Here is the stump speech for Bruce Springsteen, presidential candidate, composed using only lyrics and themes from Wrecking Ball. From Chris Richards, writing in the Washington Post.

My fellow Americans,
We’ve been traveling over rocky ground. Trudging through the dark in a world gone wrong. Forty days and nights of rain have washed this land.
No rifles cut us down, no bombs fell from the sky — but just as sure as the hand of god, all them fat cats, vultures, and robber barons brought death to our home.
They destroyed our families’ factories, and they took our homes. Their crimes have gone unpunished; they walk the street as free men now. Up on Banker’s Hill, the party’s still going strong. If I had a gun, I’d find the bastards and shoot ’em on sight.
Whoah-oh.
What is this land, America? The banker man grows fat, the working man grows thin. The gambling man rolls the dice, the working man pays the bill. The road of good intentions has gone dry as a bone.
What is this land, America? Where’s the eyes with the will to see? Where’s the promise, from sea to shining sea? We take care of our own? There ain’t no help.
Where you once had faith, now there’s only doubt.
Whoah-oh-whoah.
We will be alright. We made the steel that built the cities with the sweat of our two hands. Hammer the nails, harvest your crops. Pull that engine apart until she’s running right. Freedom is a dirty shirt — the sun on your face and your shovel in the dirt. These hands built the country. The McNichols, the Polaskis, the Smiths, Zerellis too — the blacks, the Irish, the Italians, the Germans and the Jews.
They died in the fields and factories. They died in Maryland in 1877, when the railroad workers made their stand. They were killed in 1963, one Sunday morning in Birmingham. They died last year, crossing the southern desert, children left behind in San Pablo. But their spirits rise to carry the fire.
We stood the job, now we’ll stand the flood.
We’ll start caring for one another. We take care of our own.
I will provide for you, and I’ll stand by your side. Dreams will not be thwarted. Faith will be rewarded. A new day is rising.
Raise your children, teach them to walk straight and true. Pick up the rock, son, and carry it on.
Grab your ticket and your suitcase. Meet me in a land of hope and dreams.
Whoah-oh-whoah.
I want everybody to stand up and be counted tonight. Hold tight to your anger, don’t fall to your fears.
There’s a new world coming. I can see the light.
Good night, and God bless America.