Mitt Romney’s European disaster

Mitt Romney’s European disaster must have his handlers’
knickers in a twist, but my personal take on it is that the flaw in the man
lies elsewhere. He may be a nice guy with a great smile, but he’s proven to
want the job so badly he’ll do anything to get it and in that frame of mind,
the mind locks up.
Relax, Mitt and demonstrate to the nation that you know your
way around a cocktail party. You’re not a natural-born attack dog and when you speak
to the public with that image, you’re bared teeth more often than not bite your
own foot. I’ll bet at a Hamptons lawn party you’re a more relaxed and likeable
guy. So, slip out of those never-worn-before jeans and into something
comfortable. You already have half the rabid vote (sharing those equally
between right and left) and you’ll do better with the undecided 40% of us if
you take it down a note. We don’t really care
if you made a lot of dough, there aren’t any poor bastards out there running
anyway, so don’t be so defensive.
We care that you’re not going to skin the remaining
un-skinned among us alive.
Your base knows you’re the only game in town, so you’ve got
that vote locked up and the other guy’s base isn’t going to vote for you
anyway. Spend as long as it takes watching Ronald Reagan tapes to get yourself
relaxed enough not to frighten us to death. Convince us we’d be comfortable with you in the Oval Office.

Take a Prozac, put on your most down-home Reagan
smile and try not to look so cornered.

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