THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 5, 1995 TAG: 9502070500
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J4 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY KEITH MONROE, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 92 lines
It's like one of those old science fiction movies. Washington is undergoing The Invasion of the Puffy People.
Not long ago, government leaders felt compelled to appear lean, if not mean. George Bush was as lithe as a whippet, though the First Lady had a little problem at chow time. Ronald Reagan was astonishingly fit for a man his age and Nancy was a social X-ray. Bob Dole still looks marvelous, and before his electoral defeat, Tom Foley went from bulky to bulked-up as a result of an iron pumping regimen.
But things began to change when Bill Clinton came to town and Arnold Schwarzeneggar lost his gig as fitness guru to the pols. Like a lot of sedentary middle-aged guys, Clinton's fighting the battle of the bulge. He's a tad paunchy around the middle. His self-defeating lurches from the jogging trail into McDonald's are legendary.
Dave Letterman sings about the president's pasty white thighs and jokes about his taste for fries. Clinton is far from fat, but he does choose the relaxed-fit Dockers and favors the baggy-suit look, and not just for fashion reasons.
Now Clinton has been joined by Newt Gingrich on Washington's center stage. His name is an oxymoron. There's nothing newtish about him.
Investor Mario Gabelli thinks the products of the future will cater to interactive couch potatoes and might have had Gingrich in mind. Gingrich talks a lot about laptops, but lacks a lap. Often, his suit coats don't meet in the middle, the sleeves are too short and his tie stops halfway down his belly, like Oliver Hardy's. He is one of those well-upholstered Republicans.
Roger Ailes and Rush Limbaugh are two more heavyweights, literally. Once, this big-bellied image would have been shunned as politically inadvisable, especially in a party that favors tax breaks for fat cats, cuts for welfare recipients and pork for bloated plutocrats. But now no one seems to notice. Besides, the porkiness is bipartisan.
The spokesmen for the two parties are Sen. Chris Dodd and Haley Barbour - both pudding-faced clones of the Pillsbury doughboy. Actually, the silver-haired Dodd looks like a well-fed banker. Barbour resembles a pugilist gone to suet.
The new majority Leader of the House, Dick Armey, is also generously proportioned and favors blocky suits reminiscent of those worn by leaders from the Eastern Bloc before Gorbachev took the communist look uptown. Perhaps Khruschev's old tailor now has a Georgetown shop specializing in XL power garb. If so, Rep. Barney Frank is another satisfied customer.
The list goes on and on. Washington's media top dog these days is NBC's Tim Russert. Even his name makes you think of potatoes, and he looks like he's put away his share.
Of course, there are plenty of lean and hungry Washington denizens left, but with Clinton and Gingrich at the top of the heap, it's only a matter of time until their younger colleagues start emulating them.
It's possible the amplitude among highly placed Washingtonians is deliberate. Studies keep showing that the average American is 10 to 20 pounds overweight. What better way for politicians to show they are men of the people than to match their constituents pound for pound? A little girth also endows callow baby boomers with a bit more gravitas than they've actually earned.
Of course, the weight may get out of control and become a liability. Wise guy Dennis Miller was hired by the Comedy Channel to make fun of Clinton's State of the Union Address. At one point, Congress rose to its feet - with difficulty - and erupted in cheers. Why? Miller said it was because Clinton had just promised that term limits wouldn't apply to fat guys.
That kind of hefty humor could be a sign that it's time for our representatives to start cutting fat out of more than just the budget. Someday soon, instead of signing book deals they may end up pitching diet goo - like Kathleen Sullivan, Dan Deardorff and Tommy Lasorda.
``Hi, I'm former president Clinton.''
``And I'm Speaker Gingrich.''
``Remember when we were roly-poly?''
``A couple male piglets, in fact.''
``Well, we don't agree on much in this life, but we both swear by Washington Belt-away, the delicious shake you drink twice a day. Then dine sensibly and watch the pounds just melt away.''
``That's right, Bill. Cutting fraud and abuse in Washington has been tougher than I expected, but getting my waist under control was no problem with Washington Belt-away.''
``And the babes dig the slim new me. So if you want to be a heavy hitter without the extra pounds, take it from Bill . . . ''
``. . . and Newt. Try Washington Belt-away today and say good-bye to unsightly pork.'' ILLUSTRATION: KRT FILE PHOTO
President Clinton jogs with a Secret Service agent along the streets
of Little Rock, Ark. Like many of his middle-aged counterparts in
Washington, Clinton's waging the battle of the bulge.
by CNB