Who asked you, Ms. DiPaulo, and HOW did you arrive at that conclusion, did you measure the testosterone?
Check out first sentence of the second paragraph: “Two young, studly pilots—from the private firm Rummy uses to book his private planes—greet him in the doorway of the airport lobby.”
Someone get Ms. DiPaulo a cold shower...fast!
“...flashing that special Rumsfeldian ability to exude charm and arrogance at the same time...”
- an ability the author so obviously wishes she had, so desperately attempts to imitate, and so pitifully lacks.
As for the testosterone, only one person can speak to that, and well, honestly...has anyone ever seen Mrs. Rumsfeld not looking completely relaxed and happy?
If I had to bet on it, I suspect Rummy can still deliver some “shock and awe”...