The other day I ran into a longtime Washington figure in Republican Party politics, a leading conservative who was large in setting the stage for modern campaign fundraising. I’m withholding his name only because I consider him a good friend, even if I don’t always agree with his positions, something that is unusual in this era of pitched bipartisan warfare.
Before long, we got down to the inevitable discussion about the presidential race. The conversation started off equitably enough, but quickly deteriorated into raised voices that probably were the result of my uttering those four words most people hate to hear even from good friends: “I told you so.”
I would have prefaced them with “I hate to say,” but I didn’t because he knew that wasn’t actually the case at all and that would be like treating his wounds with salt.
That I felt the urge to say anything at all stemmed from a conversation — well, more like an argument — we had several weeks earlier over the wisdom of Mitt Romney’s choosing Rep. Paul Ryan as his GOP running mate.
It was a mistake, I had allowed, for two reasons: He was the author of the most radical plan to stem the growth of Medicare; and because of his strict religious doctrine on contraception and abortion, he would not be an ameliorating influence with the women voters that Romney certainly needs.