Non-optimal optics

Let’s see: You’re the president of the United States, in the unenviable position of having to defend your tax plan against your own party. So you call in the Big Tuna of re-enforcements: former President Bill Clinton. The two of you meet, you set your stra-tee-gery (as W. liked to say it) and you go out to meet the press, which is in a froth for some red meat. Things are going well. The big guy has ‘em eating out of his hand, and in the process he’s letting Democrats know they better back your tax deal or risk being blamed for unleashing the economy from hell on America. But then a question comes your way, you check your watch and announce you’ve got to leave. The first lady is waiting. You head for the briefing room door, leaving the Tuna with the press while America gets the idea Mrs. Obama is tugging your leash. The optics? Not so good.