It would appear that when a suspected fraudster gets elected governor and then uses questionable methods to achieve goals that he won't explain to anyone -- the man even refuses to use email so we won't know what he's thinking -- the public actually still cares. When Rick Scott does something funky, it seems to touch a nerve.
Perhaps that explains the interest in our post on Sunday
about Rick Scott's counsel, Charles Trippe, defending his boss' high-speed rail rejection before the Florida Supreme Court with the help of some heavily fudged numbers.
The post has gotten hundreds of Facebook shares and
22 comments. The comments mostly express a feeling that whatever crookery goes on in Scott's lower ranks (it was his chief counsel who offered the number-fudging
mea culpa, remember), it's endemic to what's going on at the top.
One comment was a pitch-perfect parody of a paranoid Tea Party nutjob, but we're hesitant to repost it due to a somewhat tasteless Korean War reference. More indicative of the general response was this comment by Phil Ryan, in response to our question on whether Charles Trippe, the chief counsel, should keep his job:
Of course he deserves to keep his job. When you have rotten fruit at the top, it is only fitting that those below you stink to high heaven as well. Scott bought his way to the governorship and will now spend the next four years trying to enact legislation which will directly pay back the money he spent on getting elected. I've said it before and I'll say it again: A man who takes the Fifth Amendment some 72 times to avoid getting indicted belongs in the big house, not the state house. He is a blight and an embarrassment to this State -- as are the 50 percent of voters in this state who voted for him -- because it is clear they would vote for a potted plant if it had an (R) after it. With apologies to potted plants.
Scott spent $73 million of his own money to win 48.87 percent of the vote in November.
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