Trivial pursuits

Dana Milbank is a great reporter. Through the Clinton and Bush administrations, he has consistently done well the first job of a political reporter: holding the powerful responsible for their words and deeds, questioning them vigorously, and sharing with the public the knowledge we most need, which is usually the knowledge the powerful least want us to have.

That’s why his horrendous, stupid story about John Kerry failing to properly eat a sandwich is so disappointing. Look at this lede:

If Sen. John F. Kerry’s presidential aspirations melt like a dollop of Cheez Whiz in the sun, the trouble may well be traced to an incident in South Philadelphia on Monday.

Wow, sounds serious. What did he do, announce Osama as his VP pick? Nope:

There, the Massachusetts Democrat went to Pat’s Steaks and ordered a cheesesteak—with Swiss cheese. If that weren’t bad enough, the candidate asked photographers not to take his picture while he ate the sandwich; shutters clicked anyway, and Kerry was caught nibbling daintily at his sandwich—another serious faux pas.

But this seemingly trivial incident may not be so trivial at all!

For Kerry, a Boston Brahmin, this is something of a sore spot. As he seeks to lose his reputation for $75 Salon Cristophe haircuts, Turnbull & Asser shirts and long fingernails to play classical guitar, he has been seen riding a motorcycle and doing other regular-guy things.

Appearing out of touch with the common man can be deadly for a candidate. Recall George H.W. Bush’s wonderment in the 1992 campaign upon coming across a supermarket scanner, and Sargent Shriver’s legendary request for a Courvoisier while visiting a milltown bar in 1972.

Because it’s all part of a pattern of eliteness! Just like Al Gore! Only instead of being a serial exaggerator—a very serious crime!—Kerry is a serial snob! He can’t even order a regular sandwich like a regular guy! And he nibbles daintily, like a little French girl eating ice cream in the park, most likely while surrendering to someone, or dying of heat stroke! Ha ha ha!

Give. Me. A. Break!

I get that this is supposed to be funny. What I don’t get is why the Washington Post is wasting ink and column inches on moronic, destructive drivel. Picking Presidents is serious business. I don’t care how many miles George Bush jogs around his ranch. I don’t care about Kerry’s fingernails, or the thickness of Dean’s neck, or how much mousse is in John Edwards’ hair. When a great reporter like Milbank flushes a column down the toilet like this, we all lose: we lose what we might have learned if he had written about something that matters, and we lose a little bit of seriousness from a process already over-trivialized.

So I have a modest proposal. How about we all agree to pick our next President based on our best understanding of his character, intelligence, and policies, and not on how he chews his food? Ok?

Filed under: politics/2004