I have a very knee-jerk reaction to certain events and information. The fist tightens, a funny taste comes into the mouth, and I can feel a deep grudge coming on. The short list includes stories of cruelty to animals. So I have a bad response to this news of Mitt Romney and his dog as recounted by New York Times editor, Gail Collins.
Mitt used to drive the family from Boston to Ontario every summer for a vacation, with the dog strapped to the roof in a crate.
As The Boston Globe reported this summer, Romney had the entire trip planned so rigidly that every gas station stop was predetermined before departure. During the fatal trip of ’83, Seamus apparently needed one more than the schedule allowed. When evidence of the setter’s incontinence came running down the back windshield, Romney abandoned his itinerary and drove to the closest gas station, where he got a hose and sprayed both dog and station wagon clean.
Like Collins, I'll retain that image of Romney forever. I may even indulge in imagining the punishment I'd like to dole out on behalf of Seamus. Seriously.
I'm trying to hold my grudge temper in check when it comes to how the Democrats are responding to the president's demand to expand datamining and surveillance activities, giving him considerably more power and a ghastly, shameful victory. Short fuse here. Thoughts of piling Democratic Congression leadership into several large buses and driving them across another failing bridge (seems there are plenty to choose from). Or maybe putting them in crates and strapping them on the tops of buses... Well, dream on...
