Luntz Kan't Danz

America, you have crushed the spirit of squirrel-toupeed pollster Frank Luntz:

The crisis began, he says, after last year's presidential election, when Luntz became profoundly depressed. For more than a month, he tried to stay occupied, but nothing could keep his attention. Finally, six weeks after the election, during a meeting of his consulting company in Las Vegas, he fell apart. Leaving his employees behind, he flew back to his mansion in Los Angeles, where he stayed for three weeks, barely going outside or talking to anyone.

"I just gave up," Luntz says.

Luntz has a $6 million mansion in Los Angeles, a home in Virginia, an apartment in New York City, a condo on the Las Vegas Strip, an 85-inch teevee and a collection of vintage toys, all earned by telling Republicans what they want to hear. And he hates you.

The entitlement he now hears from the focus groups he convenes amounts, in his view, to a permanent poisoning of the electorate—one that cannot be undone. "We have now created a sense of dependency and a sense of entitlement that is so great that you had, on the day that he was elected, women thinking that Obama was going to pay their mortgage payment, and that's why they voted for him," he says. "And that, to me, is the end of what made this country so great."

Mitt ... er, Frank ... hates you fucking bastards more and more each time you show up to one of his focus groups, take his 40 bucks and drink his coffee, and don't tell him what he wants to sell to his network/skybox-owning SuperFriends.

Take a victory lap, America.