I know the literati have long since read it or dismissed it and moved on, but I am just now reading Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point.
His thesis is a fairly fascinating reminder that it is a marvel of modern life how extraneous and serendipitous events separate people (and products, apparently) who are fortunate because of birth, geography and circumstance from those who are unfortunate for the very same reasons.
Having just begun reading, I don't know if he visits our prehistoric roots to conjecture if success in simple survival is the result of the occurrence of these same kinds of conditions. Whether or not he does, I've concluded life, even in these munificent times, really is a crap shoot.
I'm not breaking new ground here. I just felt moved to share my reactions to Ann Romney's last night's plea for recognition that she is one of us. She and Mitt know what it is to worry about prices at the pump, escalating food costs, having enough to make the mortgage payment.
She seems to be channeling Christine O'Donnell: "I'm not a rich bitch....I'm you."
Granted, she is very glamorous looking and sounding. I understand she's had medical problems. I am sure Mitt is a wonderful husband. She's raised five boys, all of whom haven't had much of a challenge beyond reproducing more well-to-do little Romneys with good hair.
The Romney phenomena make me think of Lucky Pierre.
Pierre was up to his ears in naked women. The Romneys are up to their ears in naked money.
I don't envy anything they have (well, maybe the car elevator), but I do resent the aggressive attempt at mimicry. You are not me, Ann; nor are you anyone I have ever known well. Don't condescend; take a page (albeit a rather pedestrian one) from your husband.
"I yam what I yam....and that's all what I yam."
And likely that's all you will ever be, if the powers that be have any sense of fairness.