Hillary Needs Misspoking Lessons
The Hill is alive with the Sound of Misstatements today, across cable news and the blogosphere.
The Swamp at the Chicago Tribune is even getting in on the action.
Being half-Irish, I can sympathize with Senator Clinton. As every good Irishman knows, you never let the facts get in the way of a good story. In fact, my criticism of Clinton is that she merely strung together a bunch of embellishments when a Big Lie to convince folks she's a combat-ready-commander-in-chief is actually what was called for. When it comes to politics, Hitler was right on this point:
"The great massed of the people will more easily fall victims to a big lie than a small one."
If you want a great laugh, Head of State gives Clinton pointers on how to really tell a good story.
But rather than throw her Misstatement under the bus, I think Senator Clinton needs to seize this moment to start a national dialog on storytelling. Let's face it: we all do it. To paraphrase the Rev. Jesse Jackson's speech from the 1984 Democratic National Convention: "Red, yellow, brown, black and white -- all fairytales are precious when spoken right."
A friend of mine in college believed that every great story begins:
"So, there I was, 10000 feet up. Two turning, two burning. MiGs...to the left of me. MiGs...to the right of me. Tailgunner, dead. Bombardier, dead. Nothing between me and the gates of Hell but my wits and half a pack of Lucky Strikes."
Case in point, when I campaigned in Western Illinois, every Democrat I met had their own story about Lane Evan's first campaign for Congress: the Vietnam vet from nowhere who campaigned on a shoestring budget against impossible odds, winning a staunchly Republican district.
After two months and hundreds of stories, I became convinced that Lane Evans had slept on every sofa throughout the district, subsisting on a diet of boiled shoe-leather soup.
This is how legends are borne.
Feel free to post your favorite political fairytale, Springfield myth or City Hall legend.
2 comments:
I hear the following is often told around The Boss:
There once was a kind and gentle man named Burton who lived in Chicago's City Hall. He was a real Man of the People. His phone number was listed but it didn't matter to most people. Things went so well there never was need to bother kindly Burton. When Burton sensed the slightest problem, he would just pick up the phone and call Mr. Average Voter just to see what he could do. The people loved him. The developers couldn't stand him though, as Burton spent day and night making those developers do what is right for Chicago, and no amount of money could change his mind.
And then a big dumb mean Irishman named Brendan came along. Unlike Burton, Brendan was a mere tool of special interests. Together with those evil voter-hating bastards, he plotted a devilish and malicious campaign of lies and deceit to overthrow that kind and gentle Burton. And unfortunately, the people believed his lies and a few of them may have voted for Brendan.
And now, the people of the 42nd Ward have as their Alderman a man who for some twisted reason doesn't think that taxes should be raised to fund more government and doesn't believe that government should allow ugly landmarks to be demolished to help those poor downtrodden developers and doesn't believe Todd Stroger is the 42nd Ward's best friend.
Woe is to the 42nd now that is has fallen under Brendan's evil spell. Woe is to Chicago now that it doesn't have kindly Burton in City Hall.
Nice, Skeeter.
You forgot how Blago sold Jack Doe Magic Beans of health care and free train rides.
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