Wednesday, April 27th 2011, 4:00 AM
Chip Somodevilla/Getty
Rep. Thaddeus McCotter is, in many ways, the anti-Obama.The sign outside the ballroom was matter-of-fact: "Unsigned $20. Signed $15. No Haggling."
That matter-of-fact sign was next to a matter-of-fact pile of books, which sat on a matter-of-fact folding table. And sitting behind it was a matter-of-fact man, whom you might walk right past without so much as a glance.
That's too bad, because he could become the next President of the United States.
The man was Michigan Rep. Thaddeus McCotter, and he was signing copies of his new book, "Seize Freedom! American Truths and Renewal in a Chaotic Age," outside the Conservative Principles Conference in Des Moines late last month. When he addressed the crowd later in the day, he told them that he drove the 17-hour round trip from Detroit alone because, "If you spent 81/2 hours in a car with me, it would violate the Geneva Convention."
It's that uncomfortably understated, almost dour and definitely unique sense of humor that has made him a favorite not of the esteemed Sunday talk shows (although he does those, too), but of a late-night comedy show on Fox News called "Red Eye With Greg Gutfeld." Gutfeld has written, "In my mind, he's one of the few pols who seem less interested in impressing celebrities or making cheap points of sentimentality than preserving the freedoms unique to our delightful island nation."
When compared with some of his archetypical, camera-ready, hair-riffic colleagues, McCotter hardly looks presidential. And he is alarmingly lacking in slick, polished bravado. His Twitter bio, for example, reads "U.S. Rep. for Michigan's 11th District; Financial Services Committee member; U.S. Rep. Collin Peterson's erstwhile guitar player; and ugly sweater maven."
The guitar playing is a reference to his congressional rock band. Yes, these do exist, and his is called the Second Amendments. President George W. Bush knew him as "that rock 'n' roll dude." It is an accurate descriptor, though McCotter isn't exactly one of the Ramones.
But don't tell that to the college kids, who widely adore him. After he visited Dartmouth College last year, the conservative Dartmouth Review wrote: "The Republican Party needs more people like McCotter if it hopes to survive . . . for longer than a single favorable election cycle."
His appeal was immediately apparent in Iowa. After he spoke, he sold every book he had brought.
After two-plus years of President Obama - heavy on charisma but frighteningly light on substance and experience - McCotter is in every way the current President's antithesis.
While Obama was making waves at Columbia University and Harvard Law School, McCotter was toiling away in total obscurity at the infrequently cited University of Detroit. While Obama was teaching constitutional law at the University of Chicago, McCotter was practicing law in southeast Michigan. While Obama was writing his memoirs, McCotter was rewriting the Wayne County charter to ensure that any new taxes would win the approval of 60% of voters. McCotter grew up middle class and is unmistakably from the heartland, with (unfortunately) little interest in becoming a "national figure."
And as much as he enjoys cracking a paper-dry joke (usually at his own expense), when it comes to the business of public service, he takes it very seriously. He once tried to eliminate the Republican Policy Committee, arguing it was redundant and that the taxpayers would be better served keeping the $400,000 it cost to keep it running. At the time, he was its chairman, a role that made him the fourth most powerful person in theGOP leadership.
He is unflinchingly conservative, an unapologetic defender of American exceptionalism and the war on terror; he prizes good works over big promises. He was one of 59 Republicans who voted against House Speaker John Boehner's last-minute budget deal with Democrats, making him a favorite among Tea Party voters.
He championed the Iraq surge and hammered Obama for ignoring Iran's Green Revolution, before either were popular arguments. And unlike so many Republican alarmists, he believes the ingenuity and faith of the American people assure that our best days are ahead of us.
At a time when so many Americans revile politicians for being part of the establishment, he sits unnervingly outside of it, at a matter-of-fact table with a matter-of-fact sign. So un-Trump.
And so amid a sea of slick salesmen vying for the Oval Office, including the man who currently occupies it, McCotter's disregard for personal glory, his contempt for power grabs and his ability to bring common-sense solutions to some of our most nagging national problems might not make him the darling of the political glitterati. It should, however, make him a candidate for President.
But don't tell him that. In addition to calling McCotter "that rock 'n' roll dude," Bush also referred to the congressman as the "anti-candidate." That's music to my ears.
secupp@redsecupp.com
That matter-of-fact sign was next to a matter-of-fact pile of books, which sat on a matter-of-fact folding table. And sitting behind it was a matter-of-fact man, whom you might walk right past without so much as a glance.
That's too bad, because he could become the next President of the United States.
The man was Michigan Rep. Thaddeus McCotter, and he was signing copies of his new book, "Seize Freedom! American Truths and Renewal in a Chaotic Age," outside the Conservative Principles Conference in Des Moines late last month. When he addressed the crowd later in the day, he told them that he drove the 17-hour round trip from Detroit alone because, "If you spent 81/2 hours in a car with me, it would violate the Geneva Convention."
It's that uncomfortably understated, almost dour and definitely unique sense of humor that has made him a favorite not of the esteemed Sunday talk shows (although he does those, too), but of a late-night comedy show on Fox News called "Red Eye With Greg Gutfeld." Gutfeld has written, "In my mind, he's one of the few pols who seem less interested in impressing celebrities or making cheap points of sentimentality than preserving the freedoms unique to our delightful island nation."
When compared with some of his archetypical, camera-ready, hair-riffic colleagues, McCotter hardly looks presidential. And he is alarmingly lacking in slick, polished bravado. His Twitter bio, for example, reads "U.S. Rep. for Michigan's 11th District; Financial Services Committee member; U.S. Rep. Collin Peterson's erstwhile guitar player; and ugly sweater maven."
The guitar playing is a reference to his congressional rock band. Yes, these do exist, and his is called the Second Amendments. President George W. Bush knew him as "that rock 'n' roll dude." It is an accurate descriptor, though McCotter isn't exactly one of the Ramones.
But don't tell that to the college kids, who widely adore him. After he visited Dartmouth College last year, the conservative Dartmouth Review wrote: "The Republican Party needs more people like McCotter if it hopes to survive . . . for longer than a single favorable election cycle."
His appeal was immediately apparent in Iowa. After he spoke, he sold every book he had brought.
After two-plus years of President Obama - heavy on charisma but frighteningly light on substance and experience - McCotter is in every way the current President's antithesis.
While Obama was making waves at Columbia University and Harvard Law School, McCotter was toiling away in total obscurity at the infrequently cited University of Detroit. While Obama was teaching constitutional law at the University of Chicago, McCotter was practicing law in southeast Michigan. While Obama was writing his memoirs, McCotter was rewriting the Wayne County charter to ensure that any new taxes would win the approval of 60% of voters. McCotter grew up middle class and is unmistakably from the heartland, with (unfortunately) little interest in becoming a "national figure."
And as much as he enjoys cracking a paper-dry joke (usually at his own expense), when it comes to the business of public service, he takes it very seriously. He once tried to eliminate the Republican Policy Committee, arguing it was redundant and that the taxpayers would be better served keeping the $400,000 it cost to keep it running. At the time, he was its chairman, a role that made him the fourth most powerful person in theGOP leadership.
He is unflinchingly conservative, an unapologetic defender of American exceptionalism and the war on terror; he prizes good works over big promises. He was one of 59 Republicans who voted against House Speaker John Boehner's last-minute budget deal with Democrats, making him a favorite among Tea Party voters.
He championed the Iraq surge and hammered Obama for ignoring Iran's Green Revolution, before either were popular arguments. And unlike so many Republican alarmists, he believes the ingenuity and faith of the American people assure that our best days are ahead of us.
At a time when so many Americans revile politicians for being part of the establishment, he sits unnervingly outside of it, at a matter-of-fact table with a matter-of-fact sign. So un-Trump.
And so amid a sea of slick salesmen vying for the Oval Office, including the man who currently occupies it, McCotter's disregard for personal glory, his contempt for power grabs and his ability to bring common-sense solutions to some of our most nagging national problems might not make him the darling of the political glitterati. It should, however, make him a candidate for President.
But don't tell him that. In addition to calling McCotter "that rock 'n' roll dude," Bush also referred to the congressman as the "anti-candidate." That's music to my ears.
secupp@redsecupp.com
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