A love letter from James Carville

I’ve had a crush on Democratic strategist James Carville since the early 90s when he was part of Clinton’s War Room. He’s brilliant, quick-witted, and oddly attractive despite his bald, chicken-like appearance and Southern drawl. So, when I came home yesterday to find a love letter in the mail from the man himself, I felt a surge of hope. I knew it. He likes me too! To think of each of us struggling alone through the Bush years pains me. We could have been a comfort to each other. Yes, he’s married, but his wife, Mary Matalin, is a Republican strategist. He cannot possibly love a Republican.

OK, I’ve seen them on Meet the Press and I’ll admit they do appear to be in love; their political debates are hot and heavy, so extrapolate from that what you will. In fact, he’s even more attractive because he can live with a woman who is so fundamentally different from himself and respect her as the strong, intelligent woman she is. He’s brash and obnoxious at times, and Matalin certainly has her hands full, but at heart he’s a charming Southern gentleman who understands the needs of Americans and communicates them in direct, colorful language.

Which brings me back to the letter.

James addressed me personally, and like a good boyfriend or salesman, used my name effectively throughout the letter. He engaged me right from the start, telling me how he can hardly wait for the “helicopter moment”—the moment in January when Bush and Cheney will lift off from the White House lawn for the last time; it’s like he knew I’d feel the same way. So insightful. Then he closed by asking for my support. Well, of course I’ll support you, James, I thought. I’ll always be there for you.

Just as I was getting carried away thinking of our new life together in Washington, I glimpsed his true intent: he was writing on behalf of the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee (DCCC) as part of the Democratic Majority Drive. Carville wants my money, I realized, and that is no way to start a relationship.

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