Willard M. Romney flashes that famous, steely, devil-take-the-hindmost courage that has taken to the top of the GOP heap as he reconciles his need to kiss Donald Trump's ass, with his need not to be seen kissing Donald Trump's ass.
He runs away.
The Trump-Romney Photo Op That Wasn’t
It was perhaps the least-televised meeting Donald Trump has ever had.
GOP candidate Mitt Romney managed to sneak in – and out – of a much talked-about meeting with The Donald this afternoon in midtown Manhattan, disappointing a scrum of reporters anxiously awaiting the governor’s arrival.
There was no pizza (Sarah Palin got a trip to a pizza parlor when she met with Trump in May) and there was no table at Jean-Georges, where Texas Gov. Rick Perry was treated to fancy fare at the restaurant last week.
There wasn’t much of anything, other than a Romney aide’s pacing the street in front of Trump Tower, appearing to be looking for Romney’s motorcade. There were also the hurried phone calls made by the aide, appearing to be checking on the arrival time to warn the press that Romney was close.
But his motorcade never showed, and nor did Romney, at least not in front of the glare of the media cameras, poised for action.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the aide hailed a cab, apologized to the press, and sped off.
...
Behold the Hazmitt Suit.
It is made of solid money.
2 comments:
It's a brave new world, for putzes.
"Have your hair call my hair."
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