Posted on 05/28/2016 3:57:10 PM PDT by randita
Schapiro: Inside McAuliffe's war room
BY JEFF E. SCHAPIRO Richmond Times-Dispatch | Posted: Friday, May 27, 2016 10:16 am
A fantasy about a real-life political nightmare:
An exasperated Gov. Terry McAuliffe is in damage-control mode.
“Problems, I got plenty!
“You see what Guinness left in that punch bowl? I tweet out a picture of the new puppy. How were people not gonna love it? Not the Republicans!
Obenshain and that big bald guy who’s nuts about guns, Gilbert, dumped all over me ’cause I named the Lab for an Irish beer. Who said if you want a friend in politics, you should get a dog? He had it all wrong.”
“Truman said that, sir — President Truman, who dropped the atomic bomb on Japan,” says Brian Coy, the governor’s chief flack.
“Enough with the history lesson!” booms McAuliffe. Alarmed, Coy stiffens, looks down at his scuffed shoes and nervously fingers a manila file folder bursting with lousy clips.
“Look: I’m a lot more interested in teaching Republicans a lesson for that leak that I’m under investigation by Justice. Something about campaign contributions from some rich Chinese guy I probably met at a reception. You know me: I love a party and have a nose for the big money.
“Now I’m lawyering up, paying some Arnold & Porter sharpie a grand an hour to find out this is about me supposedly lobbying for a foreign government before I even got to this one-horse town!
“It’s probably tied up with the electric-car company I bought in China. Half the time over there, you don’t know whether you’re talking to business or the government. And when you to talk to our government about problems in China that require action here, our guys think you’re essentially lobbying for their government.
“The lawyer tells me I don’t have anything to worry about; that the feds don’t think I’ve done anything wrong. That’s not good enough! It’s not gonna stop the Republicans from recycling that tired, old story: Terry McAuliffe makes a bundle through politics because he knows the right people. He just doesn’t know right from wrong!”
Coy clears his throat. “Governor?”
“Whaddayawant?”
Coy hesitates, then — trying to sound earnest — says, “You know, sir, the best defense is a good offense. Republicans aren’t exactly models of integrity, either.”
McAuliffe interrupts.
“ ‘Either’?!?!” Tommy Norment is practically a wholly owned subsidiary of Dominion. Bill Howell has that pay-to-play party for lobbyists at The Homestead that anywhere else would be considered a shakedown. “They got guys in their caucuses who couldn’t wait to gut that new ethics law because they’d go hungry if they couldn’t go out for dinner with lobbyists. You got Phil Hamilton doing hard time for giving himself a make-work state job.
“And McDonnell? What did the ‘Prairie Home Companion’ guy call him? A ‘Rolex Christian.’ A tie vote at the Supremes — Bob’s off to the pokey for two years! And the Republicans are going after me?”
Coy continues, “That’s just it, sir. No one’s perfect. And in this election year, imperfection — if I can call it that — is becoming a shared value. Everyone’s a little dirty, if you catch my meaning. Maybe this is the sort of thing that can bring people together? And we might as well use all those felon votes for something. Trump makes no apologies for his flaws. He delights in them. That’s why voters are nuts for him. He’s rich enough that he can afford to behave poorly.”
McAuliffe studies his iPhone. He appears not to be listening. Coy keeps talking. Finally making eye contact with his boss, Coy utters a name that perks McAuliffe’s ears.
“Even Hillary Clinton is taking baby steps in this direction, sir. Defiance is in her DNA. Remember all that ‘vast right-wing conspiracy’ stuff from her husband’s presidency? Mrs. Clinton wouldn’t give an inch on those emails. “Now she says she made a mistake having a private server; wouldn’t do it again. She’s even praising the State Department for tightening the rules on email. If Trump and Mrs. Clinton, as candidates for president, can put — let’s call it — behavioral flexibility on par with the flexibility world leaders require to do their jobs, why can’t you do the same, as a lame-duck governor?” McAuliffe stops fidgeting.
“Flexibility? You mean because conditions change? Hmm? There was a Republican in the U.S. Senate, a minority leader — Everett Dirksen. They named a Senate office building for him. He liked to get things done. But he had to deal with Democrats.
“Dirksen used to say, ‘My first unbending principle is flexibility.’ Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be a rich guy from New York who’s a big deal in Washington and is governor of Virginia if I didn’t know how to bend a little.” McAuliffe pauses. He taps on the Contacts icon on his phone, scrolling to a name and telephone number that Coy can’t make out from the other end of the long table in the governor’s conference room.
“Republicans won’t buy it, but who cares about them?” says McAuliffe, his scowl yielding to a expression that is contemplative, then self-satisfied. “The Democratic base won’t question it. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be the base. There are probably persuadable independents — the moderates. By definition, they’re prepared to compromise.”
The governor taps on the indecipherable telephone number, holds the phone to his ear. From the impish smile stretching across McAuliffe’s face, Coy deduces the call is going through. It seems an eternity. The fast-spreading sweat bloom on Coy’s shirt is cooling, giving it the feel of a sticky straitjacket.
“Hillary? Terry! How ya doin’? Where are you? California? Of course! Time to put away Bernie, kiddo. Like Puerto Rico in 2008 — all over again, but better. This time, you not only have the lead, you have the nomination.
“What’s that? No, I am not going on ‘Morning Joe,’ again, wearing that god-awful Hawaiian shirt, holding that bottle of Bacardi. The political hangover from that was worse than the real thing.
“Listen: We got an idea for dealing with that new problem; that my supposed ethical lapses are part and parcel of yours. You and I know Republicans figure the bigger the embarrassment for both of us, the harder it is for me to deliver Virginia for you. They have their own problems with Trump — whether it’s women, his business, those cracks about immigrants, that he was against guns before he was for ’em. Same deal with his flip on abortion. He’s trying to turn negatives into positives.
“Why can’t we do the same thing? You’re coming around on the emails. Let’s say I’m learning more about business with China. We want the same thing as everyone else: getting the job done for the people, but getting it done properly. I’m not saying we didn’t take a few liberties, but we’ll say we’re willing to play by widely accepted rules. Trump plays by his own, then breaks them. If we’re bad, he’s worse. Think about it, huh? We’ll talk. Say hi to Bill. Bye.”
There’s a knock at the conference room door. In walks Paul Reagan, the governor’s chief of staff. Rumpled, his tie askew, Reagan appears frustrated, if not crestfallen. He’s holding a piece of paper.
“Governor, the Republicans won’t recognize your veto of that budget language blocking you on Medicaid expansion,” he says. “This letter from the House clerk, Paul Nardo, says the new budget is going on the books without that veto. That will make things a lot trickier if you try doing the Medicaid thing by executive order. What do you want to do?”
McAuliffe gets up from the table. He claps Reagan on the back. “Look, Paul, I got the title of governor, you got the job. You figure it out. Levar and I are taking Guinness for a walk. He likes to stop at Bill Howell’s car. Good dog!”
Shapiro thinly disguised Democrat propaganda as political satire.
This guy does commentary on NPR that is much the same.
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