Shane Carbonneau does not want to be press secretary. Seriously, he knows for sure.
If he had ever wondered — and he had not — a few weeks of having his cell phone number published on the “Newsroom” page of the U.S. Customs and Border Protection website would have put those curiosities to rest.
Carbonneau, an economist who lives in the District, started getting an onslaught of rambling voicemails, mostly from reporters, a few weeks ago.
Carbonneau’s number, which we mercifully won’t print here, is only one digit removed from Customs’ actual number, and he had gotten misdials before.
Things took a turn for the annoying in mid-June, however, when Customs evidently published the erroneous number on the website.
“I realized that this was happening, so I stopped answering my phone during the day,” Carbonneau told The Hill, adding:
“You made the cut because you’re 202.”
He got fed up after about three weeks and Googled his own phone number. When he found links to the Customs website, he called to complain.
Carbonneau also changed his outgoing message. Unfortunately, some of our less observant colleagues in the press didn’t seem to notice. Worse, the number in question on Customs’ website is the only one on the page not intended for the press.
“I stopped listening,” he said, apparently mastering a flack’s most valuable skill.
The agency fixed the error about a week after hearing from Carbonneau. “I apologize,” agency spokesman Eric Blum said. “It does point out, we get a lot of calls,” he added.
Finally, the answer to a question we care aboutOK, yes, the economy is important. Sure, let’s talk about taxes. Fine, give us your thoughts about foreign policy.
But, really, come on. You and GOP presidential candidate Mitt Romney are in a room — what do you want to ask him?
No, not the Mormon thing. That’s so last month. Fortunately, somebody at an Iowa campaign event last weekend had his eye on the ball.
“My wife has expressed a desire to know what your first name really stands for, if that’s a shortened version of a longer name, or just what?” asked the man.
We weren’t there, but we pictured a big collective exhalation of relief. Why was it that nobody asked before how the man ended up calling himself Mitt? Well, as it turns out, it could have been worse.
“My first legal name is Willard. I was named after the fellow that started the Marriott hotel company. His name was J. Willard Marriott. He was my dad’s best friend. He did better than any of us expected,” explained the former Massachusetts governor.
“My middle name is Mitt, and I was named after someone named Mitt Romney. Mitt Romney played football in the 1920s.
He was a quarterback for the Chicago Bears, the professional football team, and I think my parents hoped that by naming me Mitt Romney, I’d be athletic like he was. It didn’t work.”
Damn kids, always failing to live up to expectations …
Busy man like Cannon needs a good timesaverRep. Chris Cannon (R-Utah) brought to light a never-before-mentioned reason for the forced resignation last year of New Mexico U.S. Attorney David Iglesias, when the congressman was debating Rep. Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.) on “Fox News Sunday” July 8.
As Van Hollen made the Democratic argument that Iglesias was fired on political grounds, Cannon blurted out, “No, no. He was fired because he’s an idiot!”
Cannon spokesman Fred Piccolo later explained his boss was not making an argument for IQ test screenings for U.S. attorneys. It was really just Cannon shorthand.
“It was a succinct way of saying he was fired for just cause,” Piccolo said.
Piccolo said his office has gotten some calls responding to the “heat of the moment” swipe at Iglesias, but they have been largely supportive of Cannon’s viewpoint.
“There is really nothing there,” Piccolo said of the investigation into Iglesias’s firing. “If there was something there, they would care.”
What to buy for the 73-year-old senator who has everything?Staffers for Sen. Debbie Stabenow (D-Mich.) were faced with this question two weeks ago, but not for their own boss. Michigan is about as chummy as Senate delegations come, so thoughtful Stabenow aides were in search of a birthday gift for the state’s senior senator, Carl Levin (D).
They bought him an exercise ball.
We puzzled over this news for a while, imagining the Armed Services chairman, with his white shock of hair and tiny reading glasses at the edge of his nose, tearing open the wrapping paper in hopes of a new volume of Riddick’s Senate Procedure or a shiny new gavel, only to be confronted with a giant inflatable ball.
Of course, there’s a story:
Stabenow spokesman Brent Colburn said Levin was in the Stabenow office discussing legislative matters when he asked to borrow Legislative Director Amanda Renteria’s phone. Renteria had traded in her chair for an exercise ball to improve her core strength and posture, and Levin was fascinated.
“He sat down on it, and he liked it,” Colburn explained.
So now he has one of his very own. But a spokeswoman for Levin said he is “a little busy this week,” and she was unlikely to find out whether he has been using the ball.
Well, we’ve got an eye on you, Senator Levin. You may be able to hide your exercise ball, but you can’t hide your ramrod posture and abs of steel.
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