Mit sprinkles

And speaking of the Bud heiress’s old man, you almost had to feel sorry for him as he bungled his way through food photo op after food photo op; he almost would have been better off touting offshore drilling alongside that oil spill in the Mississippi. The last candidate who looked so disoriented in a supermarket was the Chimp’s dad, and even he didn’t have to read the price of milk off a cue card or send applesauce jars tumbling. Far more humiliating was the appearance at a “fudge haus.” I can’t even imagine what the Berliners made of that bastardization of their cuisine. If he only knew how to get online, he might have realized he did not have to look so pathetically out of touch. Columbus has some pretty cool restaurants; there was no need to go for the wurst. (Sorry.) Judging by the cult following for Jeni’s ice cream, say, he could almost have drawn 200,000 to North Market. But maybe he can redeem himself with a tour of the Iowa State Fair next month. I’ve certainly never seen anyone in a flak jacket eat a corn dog out of both sides of his mouth.