The one I love watches the Real Housewives of ...

It doesn't much matter what locality ends it. When they get around to The Real Housewives of the Pope, she'll watch it. She watches alone, which is to say without ME. I don't object on principle. I do object to anything that makes me shed my skin.

Endless conversations about very small things are entertaining when it includes humor. Seinfeld would get my attention every once in a while. At least I would stop channel surfing for a while. But these Real Housewife episodes of petty focus bore me into near coma.

It gets worse.

The stream of mindlessness is wearying. That a person who is a computer electronic genius, who can disassemble and reconnect every internal part of a laptop while blindfolded and tell you how the electricity flows, how that person can watch this stuff and be entertained is a mystery to me. She used to get the willies everytime we heard President Bush mispronounce new-cue-ler. "It's Nu-CLEE-er" she would alternately shout in rage or whimper in sad resignation. Pretended lack of intelligence was a Bush affectation that irritated me as well. It was part of trying to be plain spoken, I think.

Last night I was ambushed. As I walked through the television room, a Real-Housewives-Of participant was being catty. She doesn't like being around another character because the other one is too negative. "I don't want all that negativity in my life," she says in a serious tone. "I want more possitivity." It's Norm Crosby without self awareness. It's my old chatroom target Robby. It's a verbal version of Curley, Larry, and George W. Recklessly unintelligent.

I could survive the triviality and mindlessness. But the arguments make me run away. It's the same reaction I used to have to "Crossfire" on CNN. It's why I couldn't watch Hannity browbeat guests. I hate being around arguments in which contestants think the winner is the one who can shout down an opponent. If I can yell enough to keep you from speaking, I've won. When they argue, I mumble a farewell and retreat to my computer. On-the-other-side-of-the-house.

The love of my life was especially irritated last April when "The Real Housewives of DC" was cancelled. No other Real-Housewives-Of in the history of history has ever been canceled after just one season. I know. I looked it up. She especially misses one character from the defunct DC franchise. She loved Mary Schmidt Amons. She told me about her "I don't make money, I spend money" philosophy. Mostly she liked Mary because she was nice and sane, not mean and maniacal like the others.

To me, she would have had to be one charming lady to overcome the negativity of the Real-Housewives series. She would have had to be sweetness itself. She would have to be overflowing with possitivity.

One of the little bits of education my loved one treated me to, which even extreme efforts could not rid me of, was that Mary Schmidt Amons is the granddaughter of the late Arthur Godfrey. This actually is the most interesting thing about any of the cast. Conceivably this is because I have tried my best to know as little as possible about any of them. When my loved one tells me most anything about Real Housewives, I spend the whole rest of the day not thinking about it. But grandfather Godfrey stays with me.

Those of my generation might remember Arthur Godfrey as a radio and television entertainer that our parents loved. He was personable and seemingly carefree. He spoke casually when other broadcast hosts spoke formally from scripts. He was the friendly visitor.

He mocked the commercials of his sponsors. When he read them, he would purposefully mangle them, or stop in the middle and critique what he was reading. Everytime he did that, sales of the product or service would jump. So corporate executives grew to like his disrespect.

His easy manner, his humming and singing between pieces made him popular. His guests made him a favorite. When some viewers became outraged that black performers were invited to dance in groups that included white women, Godfrey pointedly mocked segregationists. In that case, it was not his usual gentle humor. He was obviously ticked off.

He was a major booster of Chesterfield cigarettes. Right up to his own medical problems. He was given some research to read up on and became a vigorous opponent of smoking. He didn't seem to mind the loss of a major sponsor. They were easily replaced with something more healthy.

Then, in late 1953, he did what was almost impossible. He pretty much destroyed his own career.

He did it after he became irritated with one of his performers. Julius LaRosa was a regular. He had just finished singing a song on the Godfrey show. Godfrey paid tribute. He praised the song and the singer. Then he announced that the performance was LaRosa's swan song. That was the phrase he used. "swan song." He went on "...and I know you'll wish him godspeed as much as I do".

Someone had to explain to poor Julius LaRosa what a swan song was. That's how he learned he had been fired. The public outcry was impressive. But Arthur Godfrey gave several other members of his on-air staff the same treatment, praising and firing them during the show.

It was the beginning of the sharp downturn of Arthur Godfrey.
It was also the beginning of a significant principle of human nature.

The Godfrey principle became axiomatic:
People don't like people who like to fire people.

I was thinking of the grandfather of Mary Schmidt Amons as I considered the terrible public reaction to Mitt Romney's poor choice of words several months ago. At the Nashua Chamber of Commerce in New Hampshire, the candidate explained his approach to insurance. He favored privatized coverage because it allowed consumers to switch companies when they were dissatisfied. It was a simple, classic defense of corporate competition. Romney tried to present a new way of explaining the concept.

"I like being able to fire people who provide services to me. You know, if someone doesn't give me the good service I need, I want to say, "You know, I'm going to get someone else to provide this service to me.”

It pretty much dovetailed into his defense of corporations during an appearance at the Iowa state fair. His intended point there was that corporate taxes are ultimately paid for by consumers. Once more, it was a classic defense of a classic conservative principle. Taxes are wrong because the burden becomes diffuse, falling on the just as well as the unjust. The crowd was mostly hostile, jeering at his assertion that "Corporations are people, my friend." Supporters were there, but they were outnumbered. Romney bravely went on. "Of course they are. Everything corporations earn ultimately goes to people. Where do you think it goes?"

In the experience of most folks, corporations are huge monoliths. The "you can't fight city hall" becomes "too big to lose." Everyone has some story to tell about mistreatment at the hands of an organization. Very few people experience huge companies as "people, my friend." Some experience, or know someone who has experienced, corporations as unmitigated bullies.

And even fewer have experience with being able to fire insurance companies after suffering at their hands. Most folks are happy with their level of service right up to a time of real need. If mistreatment comes, it will be the insurance company who changes the rules and "fires" a suddenly unprofitable customer. Preexisting conditions make corporate competition an impractical fallback for those who have cause to feel strongest.

But the real damage to the Romney campaign came with an unintended message, a misinterpretation that a poor choice of words pretty much invited.

With that, the very nice candidate became Arthur Godfrey.