Showing posts with label lookism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lookism. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Somebody's Getting a Look, Anyway

So, I'm not sure why Donald Trump decided that it was OK to get "lookist" in recent comments regarding Hillary Clinton's appearance, except that, since he's already tried to get personal regarding her health, he's decided that he's perfectly free and clear to use anything about her he very well likes. And judging from what he very well likes, I suppose it is true--character tells. (So does desperation.)

Some people would say that his use of Hillary Clinton's physical appearance (she is generally appropriately dressed and well groomed, even if I have so many issues with these shapeless jackets, just as a person who appreciates good tailoring) is a sign of sheer sexism. I say he's questioned Barack Obama's presidential qualities also--so that isn't entirely it. (Although I think it may be a component, to be sure.)

But what does "having a presidential look" even mean, anyway? The recently departed Phyllis Schlafly said that women shouldn't even be president  because all of our best presidents were men (although to be fair, all our really crappy ones were men, too--that's how monopolies work.)

Presidents have looked all kinds of ways. They have had longish hair and short hair, beards and mustaches and been clean-shaven. They once wore breeches just below the knee and stockings until trousers became fashionable. Some wore wigs. Are we ready for a president in bobby pins?

And the unfathomable orange spray tan and green highlights? Are we ready for a president who is pictured mocking the disabled like so?

We're looking right the hell at him, people. He smiles and his face is like a catcher's mitt grew teeth.

This is a visual poem of the unflattering:



Does he look quite well? Is his nurse Melania looking after him adequately? Is he ok? Doesn't he just look terrible? Is this presidential? Is it? Is he going to live to see debates? So low-energy. Tired. Sad!

This was a there he never needed to go. But he went there. So. I'm unfair--I went there.

TWGB: It's Raining Shoes!

  It certainly has been a minute, hasn't it? So, what brings me out of self-imposed blogging exile, if not something very relevant to my...