Mike Ritchey
Mike Ritchey

Here I’ve lived my life as if the bars were about to close when suddenly, without even trying, I find myself out front like Secretariat in POTUS poll after POTUS poll, yet unable to enjoy my status as front-runner.

Why? Simple, if unfair: my not entirely sordid past is threatening to come back and haunt me. Oh, my goodness gracious, it wasn’t that long ago, was it, that a little all-in-good-fun hanky-panky was merely another Saturday night, letting off steam? At worst, a felony in the third degree? But now? Now, I’m hearing from my campaign manager Deb Callihan (and, wow! talk about “harried”) that a few thousand all-in-good-fun e-mails are, to quote the eloquent Deb, “looming like Dirty Harry on the doggone horizon.”


But, hey, that’s politics today, a pitiful period highlighted by nasty abuse, ubiquitous untruths, vulgar and hateful charges and counter-charges flying around like shrapnel. Take those distasteful qualities away from me and what do I have left to talk about? Nothing. But don’t think for a minute that nothing to say will keep me from saying it.



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