Dear Charlie,

I'm going to miss you in Florida politics.  Well, eventually. When you really do leave for good, I'll be the first one burying my head in a hankie. Nobody -- not even the dour Bill McCollum -- has provided me with more column fodder. In the meantime, Charlie, as Gov.-elect Rick Scott takes his oath to replace you, I offer this little bit of parting advice:

1.  Better not pop into RPOF HQ looking for a warm handshake and a farewell glass of bubbly. They're still pretty angry over there. You took off without leaving money on the nightstand.

2.  Some Florida officeholders couldn't lead a starving dog to a steak dinner. But talent for leadership was never your problem, Charlie. Applying yourself to the job du jour -- flightiness -- was. Searching for cameras instead of answers was. Incessantly looking over the fence into the next meadow was. Next job you get, first do that one well, look for something you like better later.

3. Loyalty is admirable, but in the end, yours toward Jim Greer, the friend you appointed party boss, fell into that you-did-a-heckuva-job-Brownie category. Not a smart way to go. Nothing calls your judgment into question quite like looking the other way while a bad egg skims off the top of the party coffers. Next time one of your pals screws up figuratively, let alone criminally -- and threatens to take you down with him -- cut the chord, tan guy. Don't wait for the party to clean him up for you.