Too many brothers. Not enough women.

The Wall Street Journal, ever on the cutting edge of things that don’t involve walking over people to make money, discovers that our man Mitt! has dispatched his five Mittlings to the four corners of a country he wants treat like a dog strapped to the roof of a station wagon. It is in these bucolic locales that the boys are supposed to look pretty, but talk…not so much:

Politicians regularly ask for help from their offspring on the campaign trail, but Mr. Romney’s sons, ages 26 to 37, stand out in a crowded field. All five — Tagg, Matt, Josh, Ben and Craig — look like younger versions of their father. They are clean-cut, handsome and married. Four have children; three have degrees from Harvard Business School. Since February, they have appeared at roughly 400 events on behalf of their father, and he has consciously made them a central part of his stump pitch.

"We’re a multiplier effect," Tagg said from his office at the campaign’s Boston headquarters this week. "We’re able to be in New Hampshire, South Carolina, Michigan, Florida and Iowa all on the same day."

But having the sons on the trail is a double-edged sword. Campaign staffers have instructed them to avoid talking policy — though childhood tales do little to satisfy audience members looking for answers on specific issues. The inexperienced sons also lack their father’s polish, and occasionally their privileged upbringing inadvertently distances them from the voters they’re courting.

I guess the idea is to convey to the curious that Mitt! has raised five strapping young men (okay, four strapping young men and Craig) and if he can do that, why we’ll be right as rain. Unfortunately some of the locals didn’t get the memo and they keep asking the boys questions that are above the Mittling’s pay grade to answer:

Josh, a 32-year-old Salt Lake City real-estate developer, gives an abbreviated version of his father’s stump speech when he campaigns, peppered with tales from his childhood. The curveballs come during the question-and-answer sessions. When he attended a gathering of Hispanic and Asian Republicans in Las Vegas, Josh couldn’t answer a question about the number of minorities on the campaign staff. One of the hosts asked that next time he come better prepared. (He was able to win the crowd back with a karaoke rendition of "Sweet Caroline.")

Thank the Angel Moroni that there are still people in America who can still be dazzled by karaoke. Meanwhile things don’t go much better for baby Craig in Florida:

On a swing through Florida earlier this month, Craig, the youngest, made 18 stops over three days. He flipped flapjacks, fed a watermelon to a hippo and tried to familiarize tipsy folks at a beer tent with his father’s efforts. "Who the hell is he?" a woman behind the bar asked with a laugh when Craig, who as a Mormon abstains from alcohol, said his father was running for president. "No way!" another man accused, pressing Craig to present his driver’s license as proof.

Nearing the end of the third day, Craig sat hunched over at a Chili’s restaurant near Orlando next to Orange World — a giant building that is both the shape and the color of the fruit it champions. Waiting for his lunch to arrive, he confessed: "Part of me just wants this all to be over."

Don’t we all…