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Anthony Liveris | Republi(can’t)

(04/22/13 4:39am)

I was sitting on the Orange Line on my way home from Romney for President HQ in Boston. It was late July, hot and muggy, and I was all but exhausted from the four coffee runs, 100-plus faxes and nine games of minesweeper I had accomplished that day. With my intern badge dangling from my neck, apparently I was a welcome sign for some healthy political dialogue. A middle-aged woman approached, stared longingly at my name tag, and scornfully scoffed, “I hope working for the Devil is worth it, young man.”