California Gov. Gavin Newsom's communications director responded to a reporter's straightforward question about the governor's dyslexia diagnosis with a two-word directive: "f— off."
Real Clear Politics correspondent Susan Crabtree shared a screenshot of the email exchange on X on Monday, writing that she had simply asked whether the governor could provide any paperwork related to his dyslexia diagnosis. Izzy Gardon, Newsom's communications director, replied with what has to be one of the more memorable press office responses in recent memory:
"Hey Susan –– thanks for reaching out. Respectfully, f— off."
As per The Hill, Crabtree posted the exchange publicly, asking whether Newsom's communications team was "losing it today." The answer, based on everything that followed, appears to be yes.
Rather than apologize or even go quiet, Gardon leaned in. The following morning, after the New York Post ran a story on the exchange, Gardon shared the article on X and demanded a correction. Not for the profanity. For the framing.
"I was very generous to the MAGA blogger and told her to 'respectfully f— off' in her request to inspect the Governor's childhood medical records. That's not a meltdown. That's good customer service! #FactsMatter."
Susan Crabtree is a correspondent for Real Clear Politics, not a blogger. But that distinction apparently doesn't matter when the goal is to avoid answering a question.
Fellow communications staffer Bob Salladay joined the effort, calling the New York Post's headline "false" and explaining that Gardon had, after all, said "respectfully." Salladay also dismissed Crabtree as "a propagandist trying to dig up childhood medical records."
Two members of a governor's press shop publicly smeared a credentialed reporter for asking a question. Not deflecting politely. Not declining to comment. Attacking her credibility and celebrating the profanity.
The exchange didn't happen in a vacuum. Newsom has been on a media tour promoting his memoir, "Young Man in a Hurry," released Tuesday. The book reportedly covers his life, including his dyslexia diagnosis at a young age and going sober in 2007 while serving as mayor of San Francisco. Newsom, widely regarded as a potential 2028 presidential candidate, has been making the rounds talking about his personal story.
During a public conversation with Atlanta Mayor Andre Dickens, Newsom commented on his academic struggles and SAT performance, saying, "I'm no better than you. I'm a 960 SAT guy." The remark drew immediate scrutiny. Former Fox News host Megyn Kelly wrote on X that the comment would "haunt him forever." Fox News host Sean Hannity posted that Newsom apparently believed having a 960 SAT score made him "'like' Black Americans."
Newsom fired back at Hannity directly on X:
"You didn't give a s— about the President of the United States of America posting an ape video of President Obama or calling African nations s—holes — but you're going to call me racist for talking about my lifelong struggle with dyslexia?"
He followed that with: "Spare me your fake f—ing outrage, Sean."
Dickens defended the exchange, calling it "a moment of vulnerability about his own journey" and insisting that "context matters more than a headline."
Politicians and their staffers lose their tempers. It happens. What makes this episode worth watching is the pattern it reveals about how Newsom's operation handles scrutiny as he positions himself for a national run.
Crabtree asked a simple, factual question: Can you document a diagnosis the governor has made central to his public narrative? That's not opposition research. That's journalism. When a political figure writes a memoir, launches a media tour, and builds a personal brand around a specific claim, reporters are supposed to verify it. That is, quite literally, the job.
The Newsom team's response was to curse at the reporter and then publicly celebrate having done so, while relabeling a credentialed journalist as a "MAGA blogger" and "propagandist." They went on to frame a routine press inquiry as an invasion of childhood medical records and demanded a correction from the outlet that covered the exchange, not for any inaccuracy, but for tone.
This is not a communications strategy. It's a bunker mentality dressed up as swagger.
Newsom wants to be president. That much has been clear for years, and the memoir tour only sharpens the timeline. But presidential campaigns don't get to choose which questions reporters ask. They don't get to sort journalists into "real" and "propagandist" categories based on whether the question is comfortable.
The SAT comment was a self-inflicted wound. Whether Newsom intended it as a moment of humility or simply misjudged his audience, the backlash was predictable. A seasoned political operation would have navigated it with discipline. Instead, the governor responded with profanity on social media, and his staff matched the energy with profanity over email.
If this is how the Newsom operation handles a Real Clear Politics correspondent in February 2026, imagine the composure on display when the pressure of a presidential primary arrives. Voters in a general election won't be sorted into friendly and unfriendly. Neither will the press corps.
Gardon called it "good customer service." If the customer is the American public, the service desk just hung up the phone.