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There is a code among newspaper columnists. We do not engage in household maintenance that might deprive a tradesman of a fee.Can you imagine George Will on his back under the kitchen sink? Not going to happen. Reason is, Will respects his tradesman. How would Will feel if his plumber began writing a column for Newsweek?That’s why I am so blasted furious with a certain governor right now. And you know who. Mr. Richardson. Big Bill. Billy Boy. William Blaire Richardson the Third, born in Pasadena, Calif. Who would have thought the cuddly tyke, already the hint of a beard shadowing his chubby face, would one day grow up, become governor of New Mexico and return to his birthplace to reign over his state’s float in the Rose Bowl Parade?More to the point, who would have thought this governor – admired, coddled by a certain columnist trying to brown nose his way into a plush state job – would turn traitor by becoming a columnist himself? And not in your plain, ordinary New Mexico newspaper with its school menus and little league scores. No, this guy has to publish his column in the famous Washington Post.Well, e-x-c-u-s-e me. I just may go put in some baseboard or something. Or maybe run for governor.What Bill wrote about, of course, is his decision to join the Barack Obama cavalry.
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