Twenty-four minutes after he began speaking in a small restaurant the other day, Fred D. Thompson brought his remarks to a close with a nod of his head and an expression of thanks to Iowans for allowing him to “give my thoughts about some things.”
Then he stood face to face with a silent audience.
“Can I have a round of applause?” Mr. Thompson said, drawing a rustle of clapping and some laughter.
“Well, I had to drag that out of you,” he said.
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Voters who came out to see Mr. Thompson as he traveled through Iowa, even while expressing admiration for his views and intense interest in his candidacy, said they were struck by how little energy or passion he appeared to bring into a room.
“I hope his campaign strategy works for him, but I’m not sure it will,” said Kay Odell, a retired child-abuse worker, who talked to Mr. Thompson as he campaigned at a coffee shop in Iowa Falls. “He comes across as very low-key.”
And his supporters will spin it otherwise, but this softball interview with Sean Hannity, with an almost corpse-like Thompson with a very lively young daughter on his lap is a trainwreck.
“And his supporters will spin it otherwise, but this softball interview with Sean Hannity, with an almost corpse-like Thompson with a very lively young daughter on his lap is a trainwreck.”
Daughter? I thought that was his wife!
“We can’t bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell ‘em stories that don’t go anywhere – like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on ‘em. ‘Give me five bees for a quarter,’ you’d say.
Now where were we? Oh yeah – the important thing was I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn’t have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones…”
You tell ‘em, Grampa Simpson.
That thing with the tongue? Classic old Grandpa!
“Why…you young whippa snappas! Uh, uh, uh, wut wuz I sayin’? Oh yeah, git off ma darn lawn before I call the cops on y’all!”
Freddie has a snowball’s chance in hell of ever being President. And by the looks of him, His Hollywood career is over too. He’s way too old looking. The only role he could get now would be playing a bed ridden, dying man in a hospice.
Seeing a youthful, vivacious woman with such a decrepid looking old man is downright creepy, in a pedophile kinda way. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who gets the creeps looking at the two together.
Yeah, me too.
Stack ‘im, pack ‘im, and rack ‘im. He’s done for. Yet another example of the toxic bed-sh*t that is the modern GOP.