Since color televisions came to be owned by a majority of the country’s households, the better-looking man has generally prevailed in Presidential elections. Carter bested Ford because he was handsomer, in a shitty haircut kind of way, but he couldn’t match Reagan’s movie-star looks. Bush I beat Dukakis because Dukakis looked like Snoopy in pictures, but the cares of office had worn him down enough by ’92 that he was no match for a curly-haired, horny young stud from Arkansas named Bill Clinton.
You couldn’t say Bush II was really better-looking than Al Gore, but then, you couldn’t say he really won, either.
You get the picture. The leader of the Free World is a good-looking dude, up until now. Now we have a fat guy that if he hadn’t been born into cheese, would be sitting on his porch in a bathrobe, yelling at the neighborhood kids to stay off his lawn. He’d always wear a baseball cap, because he couldn’t afford that hair weave, and he’d be the least favorite customer at the local massage parlor, when he’d save up enough money from his Social Security check every month to get himself fondled by an immigrant hooker.
And the guy has surrounded himself with other ugly guys. Jeff Sessions begged to be Attorney General because he was tired of the other Senators calling him “Dumbo” or “Wingnut” on account of his ear style. Rex Tillerson looks like a highly alert amphibian, capable of snatching flies out of mid-air with a tongue flick. Mike Pence’s hair resembles the pelt of a white rabbit, glued to his scalp. Credit where credit is due, though—it nicely complements his concentration camp guard personality.
But the big-top attraction in the lack of personal grooming department is, of course, Steve Bannon. Ever since he was a tender young Nazi, Bannon has dreamed of being where he is now, implementing his theory that governmental chaos benefits white people. You’d think he’d have taken better care of himself, knowing that the American people want a shadowy puppet master pulling the strings on the President that they can be proud of.
But, no. Instead we have a guy that you just want to make a “Homeless Veteran” sign for and hang it around his neck. I don’t know how many Hot Pockets you have to eat because no woman will cook for you before you get a gut too big to suck in, but it’s more than a freezer full, I’m certain. The embryonic whiskey nose and the bed hair belong on an incipient child molester, not a Presidential chief of staff.
And the scruff, Steve. A couple day’s stubble looks good on Bruce Willis. And, if I may say so, immodestly, on me. On you it looks like your hand isn’t steady enough to risk shaving. We’d appreciate it if you’d never wore shorts again, either.
But Steve and the rest of the White House posse no doubt think they look just fine the way they are. It’s a near-universal male delusion. Just like most of us have always thought that we could run the country better than those who are actually doing it.
And up to now, we were probably wrong.