As you may recall, I wrote about DeRosa’s book a few months ago. Here are a few more things you should know before allowing Cuomo to foist this birdbrain on us again.
Anyone who disagrees with DeRosa is a terrible person. Probably a liar.
In a phone call with Rep. Elise Stefanik, R-N.Y., after she criticized Cuomo for ordering hospitals in her district to send all their ventilators to New York City — a disastrous idea — DeRosa blew up. (As we now know, ventilators were not merely useless for treating COVID, but often killed the patients.)
DeRosa: “’Who have you become?’ I asked in disgust. ‘I am embarrassed to be associated with you.’
“’What?’ Now she sounded genuinely hurt.
“’Yes, you heard me,’ I wasn’t backing down. ‘Do you know what it’s like when people ask me how I could possibly be friends with you? The things you say. The way you defend Trump. … It’s embarrassing.’”
About Democratic state senator Alessandra Biaggi posting a tweet attacking Cuomo for not acting on COVID sooner — i.e., run-of-the-mill politicking — DeRosa writes:
“Fuming, I sent a text, ‘You are both full of shit and a pretty terrible person.’”
“While Democrats, for the most part, believe there is honor in playing by the rules, Republicans have a tendency to flip the table over and play dirty.”
DeRosa says the Trump White House was probably “happy that the [BLM] protests had turned violent” and that Republican governors loved when COVID spiked in their states, seeing it as badass.”
Those are just a few examples of the generosity of spirit DeRosa extends to those she disagrees with — bad motives, liars, and terrible people. She proudly cites her fiery responses even after it has been firmly established that she was wrong and they were right.
And yet, in another vignette, she describes a dinner with the New York Times’Nick Confessore, saying, “we found out quickly that we both enjoyed the art of a good argument, ending the night debating politics over vanilla creme brulee.”
Based on her responses to others with an opinion different from hers, “debating politics” presumably consisted of her talking and Confessore nodding his head in agreement.
She’s the bee’s knees!
“At age thirty-eight, I was the most senior member of Andrew Cuomo’s team leading the nation through a once-in-a-century pandemic, making life-or-death decisions, projecting our administration’s competence to an admiring world.”
“Matt (DeRosa’s husband) told me I reminded him of his mother, a smart, driven workaholic.”
“Next to my father, I was my grandmother’s favorite, her nickname my own middle name. I inherited her cheekbones and work ethic.”
“While I may have been one of the most powerful women in New York … “
“Our office had a reputation for being hard-charging. We didn’t run from that characterization; we prided ourselves on it.” (This is in contrast with other offices that pride themselves on a reputation for lethargy.)
“I ran faster, jumped higher, and tried to never let them see me sweat … “
DeRosa is always crying.
Reading a Times story about her that highlighted her “powerful lobbyist” father: “Reading the headline filled me with a wave of emotion, blood rushing to my face, tears welling up in my eyes, my hands beginning to shake … “
Three weeks into the Cuomo lockdown: “Little things like a video message from my eight-year-old niece, Ashley, would send tears streaming down my face.”
After finally allowing her husband to tell her he wanted a divorce: “’Matt, I can’t handle this. With everything else that’s going on right now … please … it’s too much,’ I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.”
In bed, the morning Cuomo was to announce the end of his daily COVID briefings: “(O)vertaken by the enormity of it, by depression, pride, and sheer exhaustion, I started to cry.”
Later that day, at a staff meeting after Cuomo announced the end of his daily COVID briefings: “I didn’t typically show emotion at work; I grew up being taught that if I did, especially as a young woman, I would be viewed as weak or hysterical. … I started to tear up for the second time that day, this time not curled up in bed, but standing in front of all of our staff.”
Meeting a friend for a drink after DeRosa had heard a rumor about a possible sexual harassment charge against the governor:
“[Friend:] ’What happened?’
“’The last four months happened.’ As the words crossed my lips, tears started to well in my eyes … “
When Biden was announced the winner of the 2020 election: “Overcome with raw, genuine emotion, I could feel my eyes start to well up with tears.”
Upon reading Cuomo’s draft resignation speech: “I read it and started to cry.”
After some nut called her cellphone, threatening to kill her: “I burst into tears.”
We definitely could use this kind of steady hand in the Big Apple.
She calls everyone she works with “smart.”
“Annabel Walsh was our director of scheduling. At twenty-six, she was whip-smart, hardworking, and sassy.”
“Steve and Bill … had Cuomo’s full confidence. Smart, steady, and wise to their core … “
“Dina DeRosa [Melissa’s grandmother] was smart, hardworking, warm, and classically beautiful.”
“I often used the girls [Cuomo’s children], who were smart, curious, and [so on].”
“Sarah, a former administrator of the Federal Railroad Administration under President Obama, was tough as nails and as smart as they come.”
“Jack Davies, a whip-smart up-and-comer in our press shop … “
“As press secretary in the Clinton White House, [Dee Dee Myers] had been smart, savvy … “
And on and on.
Maureen Dowd should have written about DeRosa much, much sooner.
Despite DeRosa’s claims of never being “weak or hysterical,” it only took one snarky Dowd column to trigger the waterworks.
Upon reading the column, which criticized DeRosa — “one of the most powerful women in New York,” I remind you! — she dropped the phone and ran to the governor:
“I took a deep breath. My whole body was shaking now.
“Cuomo pulled me in close, ‘Okay, okay,’ he said in a paternal whisper. ‘It’s going to be okay. Shush. It’s going to be okay, I promise you. Take a deep breath. It’s all going to be okay.’”
Then, she drove to her brother’s house:
“Joey pulled me in close and told me it was going to be okay.”
After a little more bawling, she resigned.
Maureen, if only you’d acted sooner.
COPYRIGHT 2023 ANN COULTER
DISTRIBUTED BY ANDREWS MCMEEL SYNDICATION
Ann Coulter is the author of THIRTEEN New York Times bestsellers — collect them here.
