Mitt Romney arrives at his campaign headquarters here 10 minutes early, a knife-blade crease in his khakis, winter tan, lots of hair, all of it in place. He skips the coffee and doughnuts in favor of skim milk and the home-baked granola sent along in a zip-lock baggie by his wife. That's Ann, his high school sweetheart -- the mother of his five handsome sons -- with whom he says he has never had a serious argument in 38 years of marriage.
By central-casting standards, the former Massachusetts governor is the perfect presidential specimen -- a comforting throwback to the 1950s, when nobody got divorced (they fell in love in high school and that was it), mothers stayed at home (he dubbed Ann the Romney CFO -- chief family officer) and the greatest parental challenge was making the boys practice their piano (Ann used to pinch their necks).But as his campaign picks up speed in a wide-open GOP field, Romney comes face to handsome face with an unusual challenge: Can a candidate appear too perfect? It's a question that modern American voters, fed a steady diet of infidelity, divorce, pot smoking, high-class call girls and foil-wrapped cash stashed in freezers, have not had to ponder in a long time.
So perhaps the L.A. Times would prefer that Romney "nomalize" himself by smoking pot, picking up call girls, and stuffing bribe money in his freezer? The author of this perfection piece, Faye Fiore, seems to think that a lack of personal problems could be a problem for Romney:
But if his political record is any indication, Romney's storybook personal life could backfire as he tries to broaden his appeal to a general-election audience. That was the case in the 2002 governor's race, when his campaign aired the "Ann" ad -- in which she described him as "very romantic" and he described her as "just good to the core" -- and his poll numbers tanked overnight.
...Romney's life looks like a photo album of the American dream: two homes, one in a posh Boston suburb and the other on a New Hampshire lakeside; four cars (he drives a red Mustang, Ann a Cadillac SUV); a friendly dog, big Christmases, church every Sunday, meaningful family discussions (Web viewers can watch as the Romneys gather on the sofa to ponder his run for president). If he has a vice, it's chocolate malts.
Perhaps to satisfy the Los Angeles Times, Romney could learn to take the edge off his perceived perfection with some cosmetic flaws if that will make them happy. Your humble correspondent would be more than happy to serve as a Romney slobbie consultant. Under my careful guidance, Mitt could learn how to wear his shirts in such a way that they will automatically hang over his belt whenever he stands up. The perfectly combed hair could be redone to appear unruly whenever the slightest breeze hits it. And it is important to leave just the smallest of stains on your sleeve when eating a pizza in public. Yes, with the aid of his slobbie consultant, Mitt Romney could learn to take just the proper amount of edge off his perfection to satisfy the high demands of the L.A. Times.
