Jon Keller's open letter to Gov. Patrick.

Gov, I hear your yes-persons are telling you what a great job you did handling Caddygate on Friday, standing up firmly for your absolute right to casually alienate scores of citizens. You made it clear you think the fuss is coming from your pantheon of irrelevancies - clueless media scolds hungry for "gotcha" red meat, Patrick doubters, and assorted other whiny cynics. As you put it the other day, "a whole lot about what it is we’re trying to do doesn’t fit their image of what it is a governor ought to look like, ought to be like here in Massachusetts."

Just so. You won because you were an outsider, a fresh face eloquently conveying the promise of "a new kind of politics." But guess what? The dollar amounts involved may well amount to a drop in the bucket - what's $72,000 here and $50,000 there when you're wrestling with a multi-billion-dollar budget? But to regular folks, those are serious number. As "Ray" points out, one campaign aide rewarded with an arguably unnecessary job fielding phone calls for the First Lady equals "a teacher and a half," and that's a comparison to be honored, not sneezed at. More importantly, choosing the more expensive car and doling out patronage goodies demonstrably does not "fit" anyone's "image of what it is a [reform] governor ought to look like."

UPDATE: Brian McGrory also weighs in.

Pretty much everything you've been doing since the day you were elected, knock it all off, every single bit. Knock off the self-celebrations at record-setting expense. Knock off the fancy new Cadillac DTS that costs more a month than a house. Knock off the $72,000 publicly funded appointments secretary for your wife. And knock off that exasperated tone as if no one can possibly imagine how tough it is to be you.

I don't know how else to put this, sir, but you're at risk of making a fool of yourself -- and that's not even the worst part. No, the worst part is you're at risk of making a fool of the people who elected you.

Let's start with the car. Trade it in. Today. Just drive it right back to the lot where you got it and tell them that you don't want it anymore. Make something up if you have to. Say there's a squeak or a rattle or the leather isn't as supple as you hoped...

Of course, all of this wouldn't seem like nearly so big a deal if you were doing something, anything, as governor. Seven weeks into the Deval Patrick administration, seven weeks into your critical but fleeting honeymoon period, and I have no idea what you stand for. That's the biggest problem you have.