Deep inside a Boston Globe profile of Mitt Romney and his "brood" we find this nugget:
At night, the family had a tradition of holding a freewheeling discussion while sitting together in a room, with the lights turned off. The practice was an outgrowth of the boys' habit of wandering into their parents' room in the middle of the night, climbing onto the couch at the foot of their bed, and wanting to talk. Over time, the discussion drifted to the evening hours before bed, with the darkened room somehow allowing the boys to feel more free to open up. "It was just a time to totally be yourself," Tagg says.
What looked like a fluffy, fun story about the wacky Romney clan is actually chock-a-block with weirdness. See also the story of Father Mitt strapping a dog to the roof of the family car. I dunno—maybe a first family that mashes of the physical perfection of the Tyrell Corporation's spring line with the blood-curdling mania of the Duvalier dynasty is just what America needs right now.
(Hat tip: AMC)