The laws of political correctness dictate that people be judged
based on their character, not looks. But no matter how many colors
tree-hugging, deodorant-abandoning hippies can squeeze into their
Haight/Ashbury tie-dyes, the simple reality is that Britney Spears
can find good company at a singles bar long before Stephen Hawking
can get a waitress to make his scotch a double.

One would hope, however, that such primal leg shows would be the
exclusive province of America’s finer ale-serving establishments
and not the concern of an inherently asexual government incapable
of lust.

It is disturbingly apparent, however, that voters are unwilling
to check their hormones at the nearest speakeasy and allow their
minds to dictate their votes.

Internet muckraker Matt Drudge has published before-and-after
pictures that suggest Democratic frontrunner John Kerry has
stumbled upon a botox-spewing fountain of youth as the answer to a
primary season so physically tolling that Iowa might as well be
Shangri-La.

And although it would be presumptuous to attribute the junior
senator from Massachusetts’ recent successes to a plastic needle,
history shows that appearances may have cast a scandalously erotic
spell on politics in the past.

In the late 1940s, the film industry helped viewers distinguish
between good and evil by decorating villains with mustaches while
leaving heroes clean shaven. So when, in 1948, the baby-faced Harry
Truman narrowly defeated the pencil-line-toting Thomas Dewey,
political pundits did some research and discovered that some female
voters associated the loser with his cinematically untrustworthy
peers.

And although the theory may never be proven, many believe that
had Dewey simply been willing to raise a razor to his face, the
infamous Chicago Daily Tribune headline could have proven an
accurate report of the news.

Richard M. Nixon and John F. Kennedy joined in the first-ever
televised presidential debate on Sept. 26, 1960, as they entered
the homestretch of their campaigns for the White House.

Those who listened to the contest on the radio — a medium with
which both Kennedy and Nixon were familiar — deemed, for the most
part, the debate to either be a toss-up or a marginal victory for
Nixon.

But those who turned on their televisions received an entirely
different impression. Kennedy was smooth and composed with a clean
base of tan makeup ideal for the peacock’s hot lights. Nixon, by
contrast, refused to allow artists to tamper with his natural
complexion and did not appear as physically relaxed as Kennedy.

Resultantly, those who watched the presidential showdown on
television saw the qualities of a president in Kennedy and, a month
and a half later, elected him to the Oval Office.

One needn’t look further than Saturday Night Live to realize the
level of perception of Bob Dole’s stiff arm, Al Gore’s cardboard
voice or Ross Perot’s Dumbo-esque ears.

Indeed, Rob Reiner’s “An American President” may not have been
far off in noting, “If there had been a TV in every living room 60
years ago, this country does not elect a man in a wheelchair.”

But are these really characteristics that we should allow to
factor into our electoral decisions? A man who may have won his
race thanks to a close shave ordered the world’s first nuclear
attack. A man who may have won his race thanks to a coat of makeup
sent the nation into Vietnam. And a man who may have won his race
thanks to his relatively looser composure is spearheading the war
on terror. It is disturbing to think that superficial
characteristics could have factored into the election of the men at
the helms of these monumental moments.

So people ought to think carefully about the grounding of their
decisions before they go to the polls this year.

Remember, although Dick Clark and Joan Rivers’ love child would
doubtlessly be a gorgeous shade of plastic, California might be the
only state left in the union by the time the model’s term is
up.

Mac VerStandig ([email protected]) is a sophomore
majoring in rhetoric.