I want a president who's kind of frowsty, even overweight, and a face that shows wear, concern, and intelligence. Okay, okay, a woman president's okay. Whatever. The president I'm looking for is an antidote to the Hollywood standard we've been applying to the Oval Office for thirty years.
First there was Reagan, the failed movie star with a nice smile, murder in his heart and romantic fantasies in his head.
He was followed by Cary Grant manqué -- the opportunist with great hair, an easy come-hither look, and charm.
Bush was parachuted into office by a special plane, a sock in his pants, a healthy body and a dim mind. There was always something slightly effeminate about him in spite of all the masculine posturing.
All four were awful, awful leaders for America. What we need is a real man, not a symbol, not another guy so bowled over by himself that he loses all sense of proportion.
It's too early to know whether the newly-elected beanpole with the sticky-outy ears is as good as we wanted him to be. But being linked by Maureen Dowd to the newly-elected Scott Brown --"the handsome, athletic pol with the comely wife and two lovely daughters who precipitously rose from the State Legislature to pull us all together" -- doesn't help.
The difference is that Brown is man of the people who prefers cholesterol to omega-3. Isn't that great.
Obama’s Oneness has been one-upped. Why settle for a faux populist when we can have a real one? Why settle for gloomy populism when we can have sunny populism? Why settle for Ivy League cool when we can have Cosmo hot? Why settle for a professor who favors banks, pharmaceutical companies and profligate Democrats when we can have an Everyman who favors banks, pharmaceutical companies and profligate Republicans? Why settle for a 48-year-old, 6-foot-1, organic arugula when we can have a 50-year-old, 6-foot-2, double waffle with bacon?
Please, please, please. We need a president. Don't sell us another corporate-contrived confection with a bad aftertaste.
