If you're an Ivy League trust-fund baby with a permanent mooring slip in the New York Yacht Club marina, the latter is what you want. You want an unbroken phalanx of well-to-do Republican attorneys, with Porcellian pigs stuck in their ties, advancing in a phalanx singing orisons of well-modulated praise for their champion in perfect Standard English with a Connecticut accent, choreographed by the alpha scion of the most socially-prominent Beacon Hill family.
That's how to impress the unwashed out there in Stickland!
You can definitely wield the words. Good show.