Even when I was listening to my parents about politics, and entertained their absurd notions about race, I would have recognized Romney as not merely a gross liar, but a threat to every opportunity for people to pitch in and have moments of broad public happiness.

My parents would have given him points according with their mopey status as middling white separatists, and cast his candidacy as a measure of the severity of God’s test of their racial convictions.

But even they would have intuited the key thing about him. He’s an advocate for starvation. For trouble. Want.
That doesn’t even sit right with the conventional forms of hate.