But, I also have to say that for me personally it is Willard's long inhabitation of a bubble of moneyed hyper-privilege that yields that abiding strange stiff inhumanity of his. Think of Glinda the Good Witch descending on the Emerald City, bathed in pastels, smiling vapidly like an anti-depressant commercial, clearly strung tight as a banjo string. Watching Romney interact with average Hu-mons in group settings is like observing a social variation of the uncanny valley. I am reminded of William Gibson's insight expressed in the gooseflesh inducing phrase from Count Zero:
And, for an instant, she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were no longer even remotely human.