Hunting, Dear Sir? Delighted!
By MAUREEN DOWD
NYT
CHARLESTON, S.C.
Watching Mitt Romney in the Myrtle Beach debate gave me acid flashbacks to Poppy Bush.
Maybe it was when Mittens decorously noted, in front of the raucous, bloodthirsty South Carolina crowd: “When I get invited, I’m delighted to be able to go hunting.”
Maybe it was Romney sounding all 19th century recounting his sharp right turn on abortion as governor of Massachusetts: “I penned an op-ed in The Boston Globe and said I am pro-life.”
Maybe it was when Rick Santorum pushed the front-runner to justify an attack ad financed by his “super PAC” and Romney gazed at Santorum the way a C.E.O. regards an impudent mailroom clerk. “We have plenty of time,” Mitt instructed him with a tight smile, looking as though he wanted to give him a copy of “Tiffany’s Table Manners for Teenagers.” “I’ll get there. I’ll do it in the order I want to.” Mitt would probably be asking for “a splash” more coffee at a truck stop if he drank coffee.
(More here.)
NYT
CHARLESTON, S.C.
Watching Mitt Romney in the Myrtle Beach debate gave me acid flashbacks to Poppy Bush.
Maybe it was when Mittens decorously noted, in front of the raucous, bloodthirsty South Carolina crowd: “When I get invited, I’m delighted to be able to go hunting.”
Maybe it was Romney sounding all 19th century recounting his sharp right turn on abortion as governor of Massachusetts: “I penned an op-ed in The Boston Globe and said I am pro-life.”
Maybe it was when Rick Santorum pushed the front-runner to justify an attack ad financed by his “super PAC” and Romney gazed at Santorum the way a C.E.O. regards an impudent mailroom clerk. “We have plenty of time,” Mitt instructed him with a tight smile, looking as though he wanted to give him a copy of “Tiffany’s Table Manners for Teenagers.” “I’ll get there. I’ll do it in the order I want to.” Mitt would probably be asking for “a splash” more coffee at a truck stop if he drank coffee.
(More here.)
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