Parting shot

Fifteen years ago, I remember watching the early days of the Clinton era, when George Stephanopoulos was still handling the daily presser. And I remember sitting there in the den with the old man, knocking down my Crystal Pepsi, and watching this little sawed-off joker answering questions. My dad eyed him dubiously and said something I’ve never forgotten:
“That one looks like they ought to be sending his ass to get the keg.”
As with most things, he was right – I think he accurately assessed George’s full range of competence and skill set. Nothing in the ensuing 15 years has given me any reason to deviate from that evaluation.