Regular readers of this blog probably need more to do...er...know that here in the marbled halls of IM Central we are big fans of canis familiaris. Specifically, the companion of gods and goddesses, but in truth, we're equal opportunity ear scratchers. So you might imagine our reaction whilst perusing yet another "in depth" press release about presidential candidates, in this case Mitt (tell me what you want to hear) Romney, we ran across this:
Before beginning the drive, Mitt Romney put Seamus, the family's hulking Irish setter, in a dog carrier and attached it to the station wagon's roof rack. He'd built a windshield for the carrier, to make the ride more comfortable for the dog.
See, this is why we drink. People who are this clueless about living beings who are not them should not be allowed out without adult supervision. And by adult supervision we mean anyone capable of tying their own shoes.
Well, as you might imagine, Mitt's excellent adventure didn't turn out so well:
As the oldest son, Tagg Romney commandeered the way-back of the wagon, keeping his eyes fixed out the rear window, where he glimpsed the first sign of trouble. ''Dad!'' he yelled. ''Gross!'' A brown liquid was dripping down the back window, payback from an Irish setter who'd been riding on the roof in the wind for hours.
First of all, who names their kid Tagg? What are the other kids' names? Dodgeball and Hopscotch? Whatever. OK, so here's the Romney clan, merrily motoring down the highway with a dog strapped to the roof of the car so traumatized he has lost control of his bowels. Now, you would think that diarrhea might be a clue for Mr. Mitt that he may have misread the situation vis-a-vis canine travel arrangements. Alas, no, but our humble scribe now steps in to provide the verbiage that explains this little foray into the Mittster's character:
As the rest of the boys joined in the howls of disgust, Romney coolly pulled off the highway and into a service station. There, he borrowed a hose, washed down Seamus and the car, then hopped back onto the highway. It was a tiny preview of a trait he would grow famous for in business: emotion-free crisis management.
"Emotion-free crisis management." In other words, the guy has all the compassion of a box of rocks. But that's not the scary part.
Starting with probably a criminal lack of common sense, Mitty concocted this plan to lash the family pet to the outside of the car, alone, where the noise of the wind, and traffic could proceed to practically scare him to death. Then, faced with he fact that his plan was not proceeding according to his original intent, what did he do? Hosed the dog off, threw him back in the crate and headed off down the highway with a song in his heart and buzzing in his head. In other words, when faced with the need to go to plan B, he chose to stay the course.