Chris Rose: Romney

You might not be a redneck if you eat something called "cheesy grits."

You might not be a redneck if you hired the same speech writer who gave us the term "gumbo parties" on the TV show K-Ville several years ago.

You might not be a redneck if you hired political strategists to formulate your Southern campagn strategy, all of whom seem to have been born in Vermont – or further north, if that's possible.

All is not well in R-Ville, that being the bizarre, obsequieous planet inhabited by the presumptive frontrunner for the Republican nomination for President, Mitt Romney.

His campaign has reached treacherous terrain on the way to the nomination, the Deep South, where, for the first time during this endless primary season, Romney has been unable to lay claim to a putative home town from which to base his campaign like he did in New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Michigan, Idaho and wherever else his campaign went wheels down.

His Forrest Gump routine has reached the end of its run; there are no Romneys in the phone book in Bayou La Battre.

Mitt's on his own this time.

Or so it seeemed.

To compensate for his lack of Southern cred, Romney today puled a rabbit out of his hat, bringing aboard his campaign the very embodiment of Southern maledom – re; redneck - none other than Jeff Foxworthy.

And now stiff and dandy as ever, Romney is spouting Y'all this and Y'all that like L'il Wayne drops F-bombs, a semantic routine as ill-fitting as is Rick Santorum's J.C. Penney sweater vests which, at least by their lack of sleeves, puts him in closer league with Larry the Cable guy than Romney's attempts to affix a Blue Collar ro his Brooks Brothers suit.

And this will just go on. In the coming weeks, the race for the nomination will take the candidates through Mississippi and Alabama Tuesday, followed soon therafter by Louisiana, Arkansas, West Virginia, North Carlolina and Texas.

And then there's Puerto Rico, which is really far south.

But not too far for our man Zelig, whose rapidly loosening grasp on his identity has now entered a cosmic debris zone from which there can be no plausible recovery.

If you catch my drfit, amigo.