I HAVE to admit to a soft spot for the “Rombo’’ ad that Rick Santorum is airing in Michigan, in which a Mitt Romney look-alike runs, Rambo-like, through an empty warehouse, shooting mud through a machine gun. I like when attack ads go meta, and when they go over the top, and when they make people want to laugh instead of hide under the bed.
And I doubt Romney minds the attack. At this point, it seems, he wants to look a little bit crazy-maniacal.
Nothing else has worked, so far, in terms of clinching the GOP love. Mitt doesn’t want to be the guy who ran for Massachusetts governor in 2002, describing himself as “progressive’’ and “not a partisan Republican.’’ His early strategy of coasting by as Mr. Good Enough - conservative enough, electable enough, and less visibly insane than the alternatives - has run into some unexpected roadblocks.
These days, a decent chunk of the electorate wants warriors: culture warriors, war-vet warriors, Tea Party warriors. Fuming from the ears, Newt Gingrich-style, is, perhaps, a little much. But Mitt’s handlers have clearly decided it’s no good to be too nice.
So there Romney was at the Conservative Political Action Conference, calling himself a “severely conservative Republican governor.’’ In the Wall Street Journal last week, he was chest-puffing on China. On the stump, he plays an angry Toby Keith song, “American Ride.’’ (Sample lyric: “Momma gets her rocks off watchin’ ‘Desperate Housewives’/Daddy works his ass off payin’ for the good life.’’) He’s trying harder to be “Rombo’’ than Ward Cleaver.
Here in Massachusetts, we can remember when Ward Cleaver-ness served Romney well. Mitt’s path to the governorship had a lot to do with projecting 1950s-style values, down to his habit of pushing female opponents aside with old-fashioned, good-natured condescension: He famously told his general election opponent, Shannon O’Brien, that her attacks on him were “unbecoming.’’ In a state where people routinely curse each other out for minor traffic offenses, Romney’s expressions of anger were clean and square: He said things like “It just frosts me,’’ or, in a pique of rage, “h-e-double-hockey-sticks.’’
And plenty of voters took his demeanor as a sign of civility and virtue. “He’s just, like, a classic good guy. A classic gentleman. The way your grandfather was,’’ a 32-year-old told me in Boston, back then.