The classic criticism of Democrats is that they are too nice to take on the Republicans. But no one ever said that about departing state Democratic Press Secretary David Paulson.
If you wanted to see Paulson, you had to go to the state Democratic headquarters on Main Street in Annapolis. Then you had to descend into the deepest recesses of the building, navigating twisting hallways and following the snickering, “Heh, heh, heh.” And there in the dankest, darkest, most trash-strewn hole is where the Democrats kept Paulson.
A scheming hermit crab of a man, Paulson dutifully performed his nominal job: press contact for the state Democrats. But he was much more interested in performing his real job: causing chaos in the ranks of the enemy. He was bored by defense; he lived for offense. Paulson was not distinguished merely by his verbal brutality, but rather by his creativity and glee. Consider the following examples from his body of work:
Andy Harris: Big Oil’s Best Friend and Hired Gun
Are Ehrlich and his Lawyer Hiding in Fear?
Ehrlich Declares War on Maryland Doctors and Patients
Ehrlich Raised More Taxes in 16 Months than Democrats did in 16 Years
Ehrlich Still Hiding Slush Fund Contributions
Help Maryland’s Economy: Ask Ehrlich to Resign
Steele’s Top Ten Lies, Ducks, Flip Flops, No-Shows and Empty Promises
Steele Should Return Money Raised with Producer of “Willie Horton” Ad
Paulson’s best work may have been invisible. He had an extensive network of informants. He was even rumored to have double agents planted inside the GOP. If a Republican stiffed a waitress, failed to shovel his sidewalk or kicked the neighbor’s dog, Paulson would find out. The bloggers of Red Maryland once tried to figure out if he was spying on their site. They finally banned anonymous comments for fear of being targeted by Paulson and/or his minions. The true scope of Paulson’s counter-intel operations will never be known; he isn’t talking.
A long time ago, I had a cat who would bring home animals he hunted. Live animals. Dead animals. Half-dead animals. Pieces of animals: feet, tails, even whiskers. One day I caught him playing with a shredded half-mouse on the kitchen floor. He looked up at me and said with his eyes, “Hey, don’t stop me yet. It’s still twitching.”
David Paulson can relate.
Update: Paulson’s lingering menace casts such a long shadow over Red Maryland that they are frantically denying their decision to ban anonymous comments had anything to do with him. Riiight.