For all my pontificating on politics and the meaning of it all, my wife doesn’t share a love of the sport. Folks such as we Ricochetoise sometimes can’t see the forest for the trees, embedded in minutia as we can get. It helps for me to have a real life soccer mom right in the household to get some good old fashioned “regular folk” insight now and again.
This past Sunday I was watching the political talk shows while my wife was reading a magazine. A picture of Paul Ryan came on screen and with exuberance I pointed and said, “There’s Paul Ryan! He needs to be President.”
My wife looked at the TV screen and responded, “No, he doesn’t look like a President.” She looked back at her magazine, having destroyed Ryan’s brilliant career in public service with the indifference of a queen ordering the decapitation of lowly peon. Voting really is power, isn’t it?
Her words bothered me all day whenever I saw Ryan on television. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s the same feeling you get the first time being pulled over by a policeman who is younger than you. Paul Ryan would be the first President younger than me. That quite naturally makes me contemplate my eventual death. Not a good association.
On the surface, my wife’s judgment of the surface of Ryan appears frivolous, but it isn’t. Many have held that the TV screen sunk Nixon versus Kennedy.
And who will deny the damage done by this visual?
So tell me – Does Paul Ryan look like a President? Will it matter?