What were they wearing? What did they say, and how did they say it?
Did they have an appointment or did they bust in on his angry letter writing session to Lorne Michaels? Where they bearing smiles or did they knock stuff off his desk and ask him how much he liked his “World’s Greatest Lieutenant Governor” coffee mug? Were they political appointees or a secret arm of the Secret Service that Chuck Norris will be warning us about soon.
Maybe it’ll come out in New York Governor David Paterson’s memoir someday, all except the part about what they were wearing when they came with their message from Obama: “Amateur hour is over, buddy. Step aside.”
Paterson was whisked into the Luty Gov seat as running mate to a once popular and far more charismatic consumer-firster Eliot Spitzer who stepped down after his prostitute thing. Paterson was then given the keys per the state constitution, but New Yorkers are apparently unhappy with where he has driven them.
Don Obama, in a shrewd attempt to maintain his grip on the New York territory sent some emissaries with an offer for Paterson. Whatever the offer, it wasn’t enough to entice the Governor to abide by the wishes of the Capo Barack. How crappy does a deal have to be to convince you that staying in Albany is the best alternative? I’ve taken some license and recreated a possible scenario between Paterson and the failed persuaders:
Paterson: You don’t come to Albany and talk to David Paterson like THAT! I don’t care how many bougie, ivy-league, bootstrap pulling thugs come out of the woodwork.
Messenger: We’re prepared make you an offer you’ll want to peruse.
Paterson: For what? So I could be the first black and blind Deputy Postmaster General or some “liaison” to do all the crap Biden doesn’t want to do. “Send Paterson to some charter school opening in the Bronx.” “Send Paterson to some Mickey Mouse funeral.” I’m the elder statesman and I was passed over!
Messenger: It’s the way Obama wanted it.
Paterson: Well it ain’t the way I wanted! I can handle things! I’m not dumb like people say! I’m smart! And I want to run!
So in regards to the title of this post from which we’ve meandered, Paterson would be Fredo. He doesn’t wear enough chutzpah on his sleeve to be Mo Green and he’s at least a little smarter than Carlo. The drift is that there are tough odds that Paterson comes up a winner though he’ll end up better than Fredo, Mo, and Carlo who all would have wished they had the option of a comfortable job in the private sector.
Did they have an appointment or did they bust in on his angry letter writing session to Lorne Michaels? Where they bearing smiles or did they knock stuff off his desk and ask him how much he liked his “World’s Greatest Lieutenant Governor” coffee mug? Were they political appointees or a secret arm of the Secret Service that Chuck Norris will be warning us about soon.
Maybe it’ll come out in New York Governor David Paterson’s memoir someday, all except the part about what they were wearing when they came with their message from Obama: “Amateur hour is over, buddy. Step aside.”
Paterson was whisked into the Luty Gov seat as running mate to a once popular and far more charismatic consumer-firster Eliot Spitzer who stepped down after his prostitute thing. Paterson was then given the keys per the state constitution, but New Yorkers are apparently unhappy with where he has driven them.
Don Obama, in a shrewd attempt to maintain his grip on the New York territory sent some emissaries with an offer for Paterson. Whatever the offer, it wasn’t enough to entice the Governor to abide by the wishes of the Capo Barack. How crappy does a deal have to be to convince you that staying in Albany is the best alternative? I’ve taken some license and recreated a possible scenario between Paterson and the failed persuaders:
Paterson: You don’t come to Albany and talk to David Paterson like THAT! I don’t care how many bougie, ivy-league, bootstrap pulling thugs come out of the woodwork.
Messenger: We’re prepared make you an offer you’ll want to peruse.
Paterson: For what? So I could be the first black and blind Deputy Postmaster General or some “liaison” to do all the crap Biden doesn’t want to do. “Send Paterson to some charter school opening in the Bronx.” “Send Paterson to some Mickey Mouse funeral.” I’m the elder statesman and I was passed over!
Messenger: It’s the way Obama wanted it.
Paterson: Well it ain’t the way I wanted! I can handle things! I’m not dumb like people say! I’m smart! And I want to run!
So in regards to the title of this post from which we’ve meandered, Paterson would be Fredo. He doesn’t wear enough chutzpah on his sleeve to be Mo Green and he’s at least a little smarter than Carlo. The drift is that there are tough odds that Paterson comes up a winner though he’ll end up better than Fredo, Mo, and Carlo who all would have wished they had the option of a comfortable job in the private sector.
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