Dear Mitt,

I’m writing not exactly as a friend, but as someone from the outside with some valuable advice that you are clearly not getting from your team.

I don’t know if you have poor or ineffectual staff in your camp.  I can only wonder whether they do not give you good guidance on connecting with the American public or they give it and you refuse to listen.  If you would work on that, many of your other problems would lessen, disappear or never occur at all.

In plain terms, I’m referring to likability.  Likability is the “it” that President Obama has and, though your intimates object, you almost completely lack.  No doubt being truly likable is inconsequential in the higher reaches of business.  It may even been a handicap – even if only a fraction of the backstabbing we see on “Dallas” actually takes place.  But guess what?  Politics ain’t beanbag and it ain’t business.  Being chosen President of the United States involves appealing to a far larger and more diverse group than a board of directors whose members you know from country clubs or VIP lounges.

No, this is not another attack on the wealthy.  I doubt there has been that kind of a major assault in the U.S. ever.  We may envy the rich – we’re an acquisitional society, after all, but we don’t hate them.  If nothing else, as long as the rich exist, there’s a chance we can join them.  And, again, if we like them, we begrudge them even less.  Look at Bruce Springsteen.  He’s richer than God and the thousands who pack stadiums to see him perform still think of him as a regular working-class guy from Jersey.  This is a strong recommendation that you become a person in the eyes of the world.  Being an automaton hasn’t worked so well.

Here’s the thing:  If people like you, they forgive your foibles and gaffes.  If people like you, those things can even become endearing.  If people like you, even if they disagree with you, they don’t come after you with guns blazing.  Look at the President.  Why do you have to be so scrupulous about saying he’s a good guy?  Because we know he is a good guy.  Because if you did otherwise, you’d actively tick off a good part of the electorate.  Whatever else we may think, we like him and we give him a break.

But Mitt, we hardly know ye.  You’re all right in controlled environments with prepared remarks, even though you say very little.  The rest of the time you seem flustered and – more important – like you’re afraid of revealing something.  You stammer and say weird stilted things like “I read it on the aircraft” and “Many of our table conversations involved humor.”  It’s like watching Ward Cleaver in a crack house.

I feel your pain.  I was very much like you before I came out.  I held myself in reserve and was seldom really comfortable in any situation.  Then one day I took the plunge.  I started telling people I was gay.  And you know what?  Few of them were surprised and none were negative.  I believe they even liked me better for knowing me better.

As I’ve watched coverage of your campaign, it’s struck me over and over again how much worse the hits you’ve taken have been because you’re such an unknown and so easy to cast in a negative light.  Frankly, I don’t think all of them have been warranted.  Someone else could have pulled off “I like being able to fire people who provide services to me.” or “I’m also unemployed.”  (Corporations are people, my friend,” was a HUGE mistake, though.  Wrong, too.)  Most of these would have had much shorter lives if you were more of a person.

No, seriously, let go of the “everyone hates the poor little rich boy” narrative.  If the country could embrace Franklin Roosevelt in the depths of the Depression, they could wrap their arms around you and your fortune.

A few months ago, a news report mentioned your exercise routine was limited because you have plantar fasciitis.  It was a small thing – and not even that personal, yet it was the first thing I’d ever heard about you that made you seem human and relatable.  I have plantar fasciitis.  Lots of people do.  I commented at the time that that was the kind of thing you needed to share more – as long as you don’t say anything like you were treated at a medical center you own.

I am running on the reports of your family that there’s a truly great guy behind the mask.  Severely politically misguided, but otherwise great.  In truth, I don’t have trouble believing that.  I look at the photos of you with your father and see such an open, friendly person.  I wonder where he is now.  Take a shot and let us see him.

Of course all this doesn’t mean you don’t need to clean up your rhetorical act.  Being perceived as a good guy will only get you so far.  Yesterday was what the Brits would – and probably did – call a “cock up.”    You get a gold star for choosing not to criticize the President on foreign soil; you lost it by forgetting that you don’t slam your hosts in their house.  Sadly, you may be “some guy called Mitt Romney” for quite a long time.

I don’t exactly know why I’m offering this counsel since I know that the Republican plan for the future is the quintessential recipe for disaster.  I guess I just hate seeing someone shoot himself in the foot so many times while still opposing gun control.

Best,

C.J. Maltby