Look out for what he’s selling.
“Romney needs to complete the sale.” Jill Hazelbaker, Communications director for John McCain’s 2008 presidential campaign.
Ever try on a pair of shoes and hesitate about buying them because they pinch? You know what a good salesman does. He offers to “take them into the back and stretch them.” No one knows what that means, but when he brings them back, they seem to feel better. “They’re genuine leather. They’ll give a little,” he assures you. You look at your feet. You look in the mirror. You love these shoes. You buy them, believing that after a short “break-in” period they’ll be comfortable.
Of course, at the best stores, you’ve got a little insurance. It’s called a return policy.
Romney is that shoe salesman. In the first debate, he could have sold anyone a shiny new pair of shoes, no matter how badly they fit. The candidate who looked straight into the camera and promised a better America came across so convincingly that he could have sold a pair of stilettos to my great-grandmother and a pair of clogs to my teenager.
If only he were selling shoes on November 6th. Then, when we all figured out that what he had sold us didn’t fit, or that we didn’t like it, or that it still hurt, we could return it. We could return him.
But that’s not how the presidential election works. Vote for the wrong guy, and you’re stuck with a bad fit, not just for four years, but for as long as a Supreme Court appointment lives.
When an experienced campaign director insists, “Romney needs to complete the sale,” I cringe.
Look long and hard at that salesman. He’s selling snake oil. Women, don’t buy it.
HeyGalSal 