Maybe George Allen should just stay away from cameras

No macaca moments in this one, and there IS something kind of cool about seeing a politician (or a would-be one) show his true colors after he thinks the camera has been turned off. But if this goes viral, George Allen's attempted comeback could find itself in trouble:



Every time I see George Allen, I think of Bob Roberts:

Tim Pawlenty is running to be President Zelig

When Michael Dukakis was photographed in a tank wearing a too-big helmet, it torpedoed his presidential campaign. When John Kerry was photographed in hunting gear, he was called a phony. This kind of pandering by Democrats is called, well, pandering. But when Republicans dress themselves to be something they're not, it's dutifully reported by the media and people like Joe Scarborough buy the ruse. This is how George W. Bush, Yale legacy from a patrician Connecticut family, successfully recast himself as a good ol' boy Texas ranger and oil wildcatter.

Now it's Tim Pawlenty, a weaselly guy from Minnesota, who's trying to Jim-Bob himself right into the White House:

Mr. Pawlenty, a former governor of Minnesota, is trying to make equal appeals to the diverse constituencies of the Republican Party as he introduces himself as a potential candidate. He stands out among the major contenders in trying to assertively court all factions that will help select a nominee to challenge President Obama.

“I want to be every person’s candidate — that’s my goal,” Mr. Pawlenty said. “The notion that you can’t do more than one thing at a time, I think, is a flawed premise.”

At a recent Tea Party Patriots rally, he pronounced, “The government’s too damn big!” To an evangelical audience, he declared, “The Constitution was designed to protect people of faith from government, not to protect government from people of faith.” And to Republicans in New Hampshire, he closed with a gentle plea: “Please leave with hope and optimism.”

[snip]

The knock on Mr. Pawlenty, according to conversations with voters, is that his speeches sound sincere but do not always sizzle. At a faith forum last week in Iowa, he displayed vigor. But the next day at the Statehouse, the talk among several Republicans was that it seemed he had suddenly developed a Southern accent as he tried connecting to voters by speaking louder and with more energy.

The political blog of Radio Iowa heard it too and noted, “Pawlenty seems to be adopting a Southern accent as he talks about his record as governor.” As he spoke of the country’s challenges, he dropped the letter G, saying: “It ain’t gonna be easy. This is about plowin’ ahead and gettin’ the job done.”

Does this kind of minstrelsy really fly with Republican voters? Are they really that fucking stupid?

Are Californians stupid enough to buy this used CEO?

It's hard to believe that there are actually people in California who don't care that Carly Fiorina is one of the worst CEOs in history. But don't take my word for it:

Here’s a fact for you, Portfolio magazine named Fiorina the “19th Worst CEO of All-Time”—placing her in the top 20 along with the likes of Dick Fuld, Ken Lay, Roger Smith and Bernie Ebbers.  Why? Because her tenure as CEO of Hewlett Packard was a disaster.

The magazine described Fiorina as “a consummate self-promoter” who “paid herself handsome bonuses and perks while laying off thousands of employees to cut costs. The merger Fiorina orchestrated with Compaq in 2002 was widely seen as a failure. She was ousted in 2005.”

While promoting herself as a job creator, the reality is Fiorina proved much more adept as a jobs killer.  In fact, she referred to offshoring as “right-shoring”, and fired at least 18,000 people.  Fiorina told Fortune she “should have done them all faster."

Her so-called business acumen—the very one a chorus of pundits are praising along with Fiorina—was there for all the world to see in the $24 billion HP-Compaq merger that she pushed through in 2002. According to the International Herald Tribune, Fiorina used “hardball tactics to suppress the opposition” to the merger by the company’s founding families.

The Washington Post reported that Fiorina also understated the company’s own projections of the number of jobs at risk in the merger, and overstated the expected profits, according to Walter Hewlett, the company’s largest shareholder at the time and son of its co-founder.  Fortune reported that in hindsight, Fiorina wished she had been “more transparent,” but that “candor…would have also further damaged the company…and probably the stock price.”

So how did the Fiorina-fueled merger pan out?

“A flop” and “disastrous,” according to the London Observer.

“A big bet that didn’t pay off,” wrote Fortune.  “Didn’t even come close to attaining what Fiorina and HP’s board said was in store.”

Less than three years later Fiorina was fired.  The Associated Press reported that the company’s stock “has gone nowhere for two years,” and “rose almost 7 percent after earlier soaring almost 11 percent on the news of her ouster.”

Massive layoffs, jobs shipped overseas, and failed merger aside, Fiorina certainly did get one thing right: her severance package, reportedly worth $42 million.