In twenty years, Mitt Romney old and all-the-way grey in the hair now, will walk through his huge summer home on the coast, sit down in that big, comfortable chair by the picture window that looks out on the Atlantic Ocean, and turn on the TV, a big job, something real thin in the faraway future, I’m sure.
He’ll use his futuristic remote control to pull up that same old recording he’s watched a million times. He’ll remember that far-ago night in Denver as he watches for the millionth time. And that first Presidential Debate will play on his super-thin TV, and he’ll smile wide from the night he kicked a President’s butt on the International Stage.
He’ll smile wide watching that old debate for the millionth time. And wouldn’t you smile wide if your brightest moment played out in front of 70 million people?