Newt...Newt...Newt...Newt!

Tutti Frutti Ah Newti

A-wop-bop-a-loo-lop

A-lop-bam-boo 
  
Here they are ladies and gentlemen.... 
presenting your happy couple. 

 It worked! (see below)  Ain't politics grand.

Frankly ... always blame The Media

On the virtual verge of the big primary in South Carolina your ex-wife declares that while you were still married to her you insisted that you be allowed to continue your relationship with your mistress.  To have what is commonly (very) called an "open marriage."   And on top of that you get asked right at the beginning of the latest Presidential debate, just as you are surging toward the top against your more entrenched rivals, whether what she said makes you an undesirable candidate.

What do you do?

Well, you don't deny, you don't admit, and you don't retreat.  Instead, from the slimy depths of the place where politicians have found a natural home, you attack the real enemy. You take off against the only target you perceive to be less believable, less respected, less trusted, more offensive, more craven, more vulnerable than you.

You lash out at The Media, the bottom-feeding, garbage eating, venomous Media. And you call the question a disgrace, raised by an elitist mob that loves Obama and hates you.

It's the only avenue available to take. And so you deliver a full-throated, bravura performance, filled with puffed up indignation. And you know what?  It just may have worked.

_____________________________________________________________________

An aside: here's a new parlor game.  Before the next Republican debate gather with some friends to watch, and each of you write down how many times Newt Gingrich uses the word "frankly." Winner gets a prize to be determined. (Also carefully consider what it says about someone who needs to do that. Frankly, and with all due respect, the answer isn't pretty.)

2012

Less than a month into the New Year, and the signs are not so good.

I could be talking about a lot of things out there, but in this case I am referring to our Presidential contenders, most specifically the boys remaining to slug it out in the Grand Old Party. Nothing has changed; we remain on the brink (see below).

I watched  the New Hampshire returns last night, and because my need to inflict self-punishment apparently knows no bounds, I also forced myself to listen to the dreary, predictable, unimaginative speeches that followed.Then I tried to go to sleep, but somehow kept dreaming about being on a space ship bound for another planet, any other planet not inhabited by anyone named Mitt, or Newt, or by someone who sleeps with dead babies, or who has two first names and his feet planted firmly in a time before the French Revolution. I can't remember that the ship landed. 

But here's a happy little surprise. Instead of inflicting further punishment on myself, this morning I went to sit and eat and reflect with three other dear friends in what has become our weekly Breakfast Club. Three hours later, and after sloshing through several hundred cups of coffee, my companions demonstrated what is still possible even in these murky, unsettled, often distressing times: love, compassion, support, gentleness, thoughtfulness, and generosity.  I thank Mark, Michael and Don for again reminding me that these qualities endure, despite all signs to the contrary. Through this first post of 2012 I extend the same hopes that you find them in your life in the New Year and beyond.