ey, Mitt, don’t you like us anymore?
By Beth Teitell
Boston Herald Columnist
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Is it something we did, Mitt? Is that why you’ve been barnstorming the country bad-mouthing us? Why you felt the need to hold a nationwide simulcast to millions of conservative Christians on Sunday night - from our very living room - condemning us? Did we change? Are we not who you thought we were?
Oh, how in love you were just four short years ago! We’ll never forget the sweet nothings you whispered in our ears: “I believe the people in the commonwealth deserve to have someone like me in their corner,” you said. Our Bay State bosom heaved.
And, be still our beating hearts, the money you lavished! We’re not materialistic, but it sure makes a state feel good when a fella wants it so much he spends $6.3 million - of his own funds - just to get us to say, “yes.”
But it wasn’t only your words and big bucks. Unlike a lot of guys trying to make time here, you helped out around the place. We can’t forget - although we’re trying to - those “work days” you held during our courtship. There you were, a millionaire for goodness sake, paving roads, working as a lobsterman, selling sausages at Fenway. Not watching the game like a lot of jerks would, but working for the family, our family.
And if that wasn’t enough, you proved you weren’t fickle by showing your commitment to your lovely wife, Anne. “I fell in love with her then. I’m still in love with her today,” you told us, as we learned about your prom and your wedding, and saw you, the consummate family man, horsing around with your sons.
“He could be that true to us, also,” we told ourselves, never believing that you saw Massachusetts as a mere platform, a starter marriage, to be used and then discarded, like so many hanging chads.
Well, sorry to sound bitter, but what goes around comes around. Don’t think we’re going to sit around meekly and hide your dirty laundry when the bloggers come a’sniffing. And even if things don’t work out with your current crush (the White House), it’s probably best that you find someplace else to live, OK?
Oh . . . and don’t let the voting booth curtain hit you on the way out.
