That's Our Fratboy
by digby
Steve Benen at The Carpetbagger Report caught this little gem. Those fancy pants Connecticut blue bloods sure do have lousy manners:
The AP ran a report last night on Bush visiting Florida to tout his Medicare prescription drug plan. It was mostly boilerplate stuff, with one exception.
He stopped by Broward Community College, where government officials set up tents and tables with laptops to help dozens of seniors there choose among the myriad plan options available.
Bush visited with some waiting in a courtyard where Frank Sinatra's "Young At Heart" played on the loudspeakers, then he went indoors where people were looking over the laptops. He walked around giving handshakes and hugs to those who rose for his entrance, and greeted a man who remained sitting in a wheelchair with, "You look mighty comfortable." (emphasis added)
Now, I realize the president was probably kidding. For all I know, the senior citizen laughed.
But I have to wonder what on earth Bush was thinking. Maybe the president has never had a friend or family member confined to a wheelchair, but as a rule, noting how "comfortable" they look is rarely a friendly way to start a conversation.
No it isn't. But then neither is noting someone's baldness or that they've gained weight and Junior does that all the time too. It's his way of putting people off balance and getting everyone on his side to pile on another.
There's an interesting simple psychology involved in such things. If someone can coerce those in a group to help him attack a single member they become his accomplices. For instance, getting everybody in the press corps to laugh at a reporter's baldness makes those reporters part of the president's gang. And, of course, it intimidates them. If they stray, they too will be subject to that kind of public humiliation. It's the evil fratboy theory of social relations, very primitive stuff.
That Bush may be reduced to plying this unconsciously with senior citizens in wheelchairs is not surprising, given his poll numbers.
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