Slice of life

I have to say, I've never been much impressed with the substance of Maureen Dowd's columns, or even her flippant writing style, particularly. She doesn't have anything original to say, and she's just not that funny.

However, I've always enjoyed the sort of slice-of-life anecdotes that she sometimes relates about her encounters with the powerful. Her latest has a good one featuring Obama:

I hadn’t yet come to grips with the notion of giving up Popeyes when Obama — slender, chewing Nicorette and perfectly groomed in his crisp white shirt — came upon me. I was splattered with so much red sauce it could have been a scene from “Saw IV.” Not only on my face and hands but all over the candidate’s picture in the U.S. News & World Report I was reading.

“It’s on my ear,” he complained, looking down at the magazine.

Feeling cocky after 11 straight wins, he called me “MoDowd” and tweaked me for my many columns suggesting he would need to toughen up to beat the Clinton machine. “She’s trying to give me hair on my chest,” he said mockingly, plucking at his shirt.

Flyin' around, eatin' barbecue, hangin' with Presidential candidates...like you do.