Mitt Romney’s European disaster must have his handlers’ knickers in a twist, but my personal take on it is that the flaw in the man lies elsewhere. He may be a nice guy with a great smile, but he’s proven to want the job so badly he’ll do anything to get it and in that frame of mind, the mind locks up.

Relax, Mitt and demonstrate to the nation that you know your way around a cocktail party. You’re not a natural-born attack dog and when you speak to the public with that image, you’re bared teeth more often than not bite your own foot. I’ll bet at a Hamptons lawn party you’re a more relaxed and likeable guy. So, slip out of those never-worn-before jeans and into something comfortable. You already have half the rabid vote (sharing those equally between right and left) and you’ll do better with the undecided 40% of us if you take it down a note. We don’t really care if you made a lot of dough, there aren’t any poor bastards out there running anyway, so don’t be so defensive.

We care that you’re not going to skin the remaining un-skinned among us alive.

Your base knows you’re the only game in town, so you’ve got that vote locked up and the other guy’s base isn’t going to vote for you anyway. Spend as long as it takes watching Ronald Reagan tapes to get yourself relaxed enough not to frighten us to death. Convince us we’d be comfortable with you in the Oval Office.

Take a Prozac, put on your most down-home Reagan smile and try not to look so cornered.