Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Credit: Boston Hearld

Right-wing nut job, reporting for duty

By Howie Carr

Tuesday, July 27, 2004
So Terry McAuliffe, the chairman of the national Democratic committee, wants a kinder, gentler face for the party this week, does he?
     ``Hey, come over here,'' he was yelling at one of his minions yesterday, as he pointed at me. ``I want my picture taken with the biggest right-wing nut job in Boston.''
     Thanks for the compliment, Terry. I smiled for the camera.
     ``Got any good dot-com tips for me?'' I said.
     This was at the Boston Harbor Hotel yesterday morning. They have U.S. Capitol cops with police dogs at the front entrance as well as men in black brandishing machine guns. It was unclear whether the gunners were there to prevent people from getting in, or getting out.
     According to sources, who weren't getting many tips from the distinguished solons, there are more than two dozen senators at the hotel. Yesterday, one of the ones who isn't, Ted Kennedy, stumbled into the lobby with Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg.
     A hotel man smiled and said, ``Nice to have you back with us, Senator.''
     ``Fine, yes, good,'' Teddy mumbled as he stumbled ahead, stooped over, a veritable hunchback of Chappaquiddick. He'd never be able to squirm out of that Oldsmobile now. You knew it was a big event Ted was attending - he'd put on trousers.
     This is Ted's night at the convention, you know. Which probably explains why the broadcast networks are giving the whole show a pass.
     It'll be hard to top Bill Clinton, of course. And then, this morning, after last night's prime-time ragtime, he delivers a ``briefing'' on the issues, at the Wang Center.
     Clinton at the Wang. Fill in your own joke here.
     Back outside, at the Boston Harbor Hotel, I saw Terry McAuliffe talking to my 10-year-old daughter.
     ``Who are you voting for, Carolyn?'' he asked.
     ``George W. Bush,'' she said.
     ``Oh, please give John Kerry [related, bio] just four days,'' he said. ``The way things are going, you won't be able to get a job when you grow up.''
     ``Carolyn,'' I said, ``this guy used to work for Bill Clinton. You know what that means.''
     She gave him a funny look, as if she were trying to see if he had just shoved some top-secret documents down his pants. She would have told Terry McAuliffe to shove it, but the nuns wouldn't approve. It was as unthinkable as taking a child to hear Bill Clinton speak.
     At the Wang.

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