by Molly Ivors
So apparently the NYT Style section is taking on the awe-inspiring spectacle of Mrs. Thompson's bosom. Is it a political liability? Does what he gains in old fart jealous admiration make up for women who think she's a tramp and he's being led around by his dick?
Sexism being what it is, there's no way to have a serious conversation about the role of tits in the presidential campaign. Maybe we can discuss the wisdom of that dress?
The Times claims that, when the term "trophy wife" was coined in 1989 by Fortune magazine, it described a woman who is "the second (or third) wife of a corporate titan, who was younger, beautiful and — equally important — accomplished in her own right, which describes Mrs. Thompson." So apparently, we're supposed to focus on her list of accomplishments (yet to be released by the campaign, and she doesn't even have her own Wikipedia entry yet), rather than that bosom. But if that were the case, presumably Mrs. Thompson, whose slim resume includes a stint as the spokesmodel for the RNC, would, you know, be out in public talking. So far, she hasn't been.
And so, we, the astute political observers, are left with her pictures. And she's not ugly, though she does have that tense, hardened look of someone with a lot of miles on her. (See here, from the same event--she doesn't really look good up close.) But, you know, a young, lovely wife, even an accomplished one, doesn't guarantee happiness: he should ask Paul McCartney how well that sort of thing can go.
Those who leap to Mrs. Thompson's defense tend to be the same ones who defend Ann Coulter and Michelle Malkin as goddesses. (Note: we don't question Coulter's sexuality. We question her sanity and, occasionally, her gender.) Clearly, ideology trumps their aesthetic sense. But here's a clue: hate is not attractive. We abuse Malkin and Coulter as harpies because they are harpies, regardless of their personal appearances.
As a feminist of my generation (the same age as she is), I support Mrs. Thompson's right to wear plunging necklines and sequins over her (possibly lactating) breasts. But she shouldn't be surprised if no one makes eye contact, that's all I'm saying. And maybe Fred married her for her brilliant political strategizing, but so far, I don't see much evidence of that.
I don't hate Fred Thompson because he has a trophy wife. I hate him because he's a hypocritical corporate-crat neocon who was Nixon's mole and has sold his soul to anyone with the scratch to buy it for the last 30 years. That Jeri (note the "i"--always a sign of Seriousness) signed on to his team pretty much says all you need to know about her.
I hereby dub him Fred "Boom King" Thompson.