An Open Letter to Mitt Romney

Dear Governor Romney,

Yes, I know, you do not like to be reminded that you were once actually the governor of my home state. But it’s true. And there is evidence. One need only look back at rebroadcasts of Red Sox games. There you are, night after night, with your lovely wife Ann, somewhere behind home plate, a little down the third base line. You had seats near Joseph Abboud (now there’s a Massachusetts success story). You did not sit in a field box near the owners, or in a luxury box high above. You sat with the people of Massachusetts. Those entitled victims who elected you. The 47%.

Because you and I both know that it was not the Republicans in Massachusetts who put you in office. You had a weak primary opponent and a weak opponent in the general election and you STILL needed help to get elected. You needed a lot of help, and it came from those folks who used to be known as Reagan democrats, those socially liberal but fiscally conservative people who believe that you should cast your vote for the person not the party. I know because I used to be one of them. There are democrats who I could NEVER pull a lever for (the hateful Scott Harshbarger). I was appalled by John Silber and not even remotely offended by Bill Weld.

But you, Governor, have offended me.

When my husband played the video for me, I thought it was a joke, that someone had dubbed your words. The disdain, the condescension with which you spoke of those of us who support President Obama, was so clear, so pure, as to be unmistakable (even if it was pandering to your audience). And your feeble attempts at explanation are even more offensive. I think I would be happier if you just own your disdain. Embrace your condescension. Your base would not be offended—they feel the same way.

But that 5% you also mentioned? The undecided? Those looking for an appealing, personable, well-spoken candidate? I am going to work my butt off between now and November to convince them that candidate is Barack Obama. I am going to start by taking some of my income—taxed at a rate almost three times higher than yours–and give it to the President’s reelection campaign. Then I am going to get a sign on my lawn, maybe even a bumper sticker for my car. I will stuff envelopes, man phone banks. Because I am indeed entitled–to a president that does not scorn me.

 

 

 

 

 

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