Dick Morris is comically wrong about everything. He’s probably the wrongest man in America, and considering that Bill Kristol and Karl Rove also live here, that’s an accomplishment.
Now, I’m reluctant to open up avenues for Clinton bashing, as I’ve seen too much of that recently and much of it is unhinged and disturbingly reinforcing.
But I am willing to say one thing here, which is that the only reason Dick Morris has been able to plague us with his wrongness is because he’s the person Bill Clinton turned to to right his listing ship after the 1994 midterms. The word “triangulation” seems to have originated with Morris, so as effective as it might have been in the short term, you can’t separate that aspect of the Clinton legacy from Morris.
And, of course, his toe-sucking exploits with a call girl on the eve of the 1996 Democratic National Convention provided some very unwelcome headlines.
I judge politicians heavily be the people they surround themselves with, and I’ve never really gotten over the trust that was placed in Dick Morris during Clinton’s administration.
So, Morris can go to the National Enquirer and write whatever slime he wants to about Hillary. No one takes him seriously, so it won’t matter.
But someone once did take him seriously, and I still have a problem with that.
