When I awoke this morning to find that Mitt Romney had picked Paul Ryan (or as I call him, Paulie Blue Eyes) to be his running mate, I was beyond elated. For the first time since he became the presumptive Republican nominee, I felt that the ex-Governor of Massachussets had finally executed a move that would have gotten a 10.00 from the Bulgarian judges. To continue the Olympic theme, I realized that I hadn't felt this excited about a contest since the US hockey team beat Russia in 1980 (and no, I'm not calling anyone a communist....)
All joking aside, Ryan was a fantastic pick. He's brilliant, a visionary, articulate, young, and charismatic. He has all of the qualities that you want in the heir apparent, plus he isn't in danger of outshining the guy in the top position. Chris Christie, much as I love him, would have been too Jersey Strong for the blander Romney, and would have moved the narrative in a different and not altogether productive direction.
Ryan is all about fixing this broken economy, getting rid of waste, cutting entitlements, and making sure that there will be an economy for our children and our grandchildren. The other side is moving us toward a scenario where we'll be engaging in 5 Year Plans, music of Dr. Zhivago playing in the background (okay, maybe I am conjuring the comrades.)
Seriously, though, I knew Ryan was the right man for the job when I heard the screams from horrified progressives, one of whom wrote on her website that Ryan's policies would endanger lives. She also couldn't understand why Romney would pick another 'white guy.' Gotta love these liberals, who think that you should pick a running mate the same way you pick your take-out Chinese: one from column A (race) one from column B (gender) and one from column C (sexual orientation.)