Willard Romney can't seem to make up his mind about which foot it is he prefers in his mouth, constantly trying one, then the other.
Running mate Paul Ryan can't stop shooting from the hip, shooting off his lip, fatally winging any chance he ever had to be taken seriously by any sane adult whose brains still work somewhat close to spec.
Between one man's random ricochets off mistruths, and the other's routine taste-testing of his own feet, this is one heckuva team, Brownie.
It's just a matter of time before one of them panics, accidentally speaking truth, while the other finally accepts his limitations and hires out for more feet.
* * * * *