The following is a complete transcript of Gov. Mitt Romney’s concession phone call to President Barack Obama on Nov. 6, 2012. Transcribed by Patrick Rapa.
Mitt Romney: Hello?
Barack Obama: Hello.
BO: Yes, Governor Romney, is that you?
MR: Hello? Tagg. Taggy! Taggart! I can’t get your Droid Razr Maxx to work. … Yes, I hit send. Yes. It’s not—
BO: Hello. Governor Romney?
MR: Hello! Oh, there you are.
MR: OK. So. You probably know why I’m calling. A lot of the results are in. Fox News is calling it. Fox Business is calling it.
MR: Drudge is holding out hope. They’ve got a flashing siren doodad saying it’s too close to call. There’s also a link to pictures of your wang, but I haven’t clicked on it. And that won’t change much. You have won the election.
BO: Look, thank you, Governor Romney. It’s very gracious of you to call and concede.
MR: Now, I never used that term. I signed a pledge that I would never use that term.
BO: I see.
MR: I’m also not allowed to say “moist” or “plump.” But that hardly ever comes up.
MR: Is somebody else on the line?
BO: There shouldn’t be. Please hold a moment, Governor. [Muffled yelling.] Joe! Joey? Did you pick up the phone down there?
Joe Biden: ... No.
BO: Now, yes you did, Joe — we can all hear you.
JB: I’m sorry. I’m just so freaking jazzed I get to be President Jr. again.
MR: Hello, Mr. Vice President.
JB: Hello, Mister Malarkey.
BO: Look, Joe. Now, that’s not nice. Mr. Romney and I are talking. Why don’t you go finish your puzzle.
JB: ’Kay. Bye, loser! Click!
BO: You’re still there, aren’t you, Joe?
JB: ... No.
MR: Can we just get this over with, Mr. President? I’m calling to congratulate you on your fine victory. The American people have spoken — especially the godless and the perverted, the illegal immigrants, the blacks, the Muslims, the gays, the poor, the sick, the educated, the women.
BO: My base.
MR: Of course, I did sweep the Mormon constituency, pretty sure. And Tagg got his whole polo team to vote for me. I’m certain I did well with Ann and all my secret bonus wives, and with everyone in the dressage community. I went over well with horse fanciers.
BO: Look, and I’m betting you rallied all the xenophobes, the wealthy, the racists, the rapists, the birthers, the hoarders, the easily led and the aborted.
MR: My base.
BO: Oh, and don’t forget those precincts in Ohio where you took 300 percent of the vote, thanks to those Hart Intercivic voting machines owned by known donors to your campaign, including your cronies from Bain Capital.
MR: You, uh — you knew about that?
BO: Look, yes I did. And I still won. Ha ha. Remember when I zinged you with
that bayonet line?
MR: I do not recall that.
BO: There’s that Romnesia again.
MR: Yeah, well you have the Epstein-Barack Virus.
BO: I have heard you suffer from the AndroMitta Strain.
MR: Well, with all due respect, you’re Baracktose intolerant!
BO: Good one. I enjoyed that one very much.
MR: Now that it’s all said and done, Mr. President, where do you think I went wrong?
BO: You don’t want me to tell you that.
MR: That’s just plain wrong for America. I would like your opinion.
BO: Look, Governor Romney. I think folks see you as smug, slimy, stiff and out of touch. Let me be clear: You aligned yourself with a party full of 65-year-old frat boys who think they have something important to say about rape. Women already thought you were creepy, and then you told your “binders of women” story.
MR: That was an SVU reference. I can’t believe nobody picked up on that!
BO: You hide money in the Caymans. You won’t release your tax forms. You had
Donald Trump stumping for you. You said you liked firing people. You said corporations are people. You told your rich pals that 47 percent of the population is made up of shiftless, dependent babies.
MR: I guess it’s safe to admit it now: I do hate the middle class. I just think they suck.
BO: You flip-flopped on health care. You straight-up flopped on foreign policy, ’cause you don’t know anything about the folks who want to put folks in harm’s way, like Pocky-ston or the Tolly-bon. … You still there?
MR: Yep. Just smirking. Staring off into the middle distance. Eyes getting dewy.
Thick, lustrous brows locked in place like a still life of two woolly caterpillars in a staring contest on a spray-tanned clementine. But please, go on.
BO: OK. Your convention highlight was an old man humiliating himself by talking to a chair. You once strapped your dog to the roof of your car. You said they should let you open the windows on airplanes.
MR: How else are we supposed to dispose of used napkins and such?
BO: You change your mind about everything whenever it’s politically convenient.
You are a man known only for your ambition and your desire, but you stand for nothing. You want money. You want power. You want to be president, but you don’t even know why.
JB: Oh snap, Mittens. You got served, son. You. Got. Served. Son.