I don’t subscribe to the cable channel that carried “Sex and the City,” so, like many things in the culture, the program and its dreadful female stars passed me by. Unfortunately, another channel, TBS, is screening – and now advertising – the antics of these well-worn wenches. No wonder so many American men need Viagra.
Try getting amorous with a banshee blaring in your ear! Then there are the decidedly unerotic growls: “Hello lover boy, are you ready?” And the Nietzschean – yet unjustified – yelps of self-adulation: “We’re the best, Manhattan; we’ve got it all.” Add cliched and defiant declarations of being “my own strong woman” (uttered in staccato, tart tones), and what you have is the lingua franca of female America.
Warning: Such a package may be coming soon to the White House in the unlovely form of Teresa Heinz Kerry. “I’m cheeky, I’m sexy, whatever,” she recently babbled to CBS Evening News. And: “I have to be who I am … I don’t think there is one like me because no one came from where I came.” (“No one”? Is she perhaps an alien of the Deep Space variety?) Should her husband win in November, Heinz Kerry is sure to make us mourn the loss of the current first lady, the bonny Laura Bush.
Teresa is right about one thing we didn’t see coming: “The Republicanism of this administration is neither Republican nor conservative.” Back in the heady days of the previous century, many libertarians had high hopes for Bush, who promised to combine fiscal conservatism and low taxes with a “humble” foreign policy. And Bush’s wife was the icing on the cake. What an improvement her fair face was going to be on the Hilldebeest’s coarse countenance.
And unlike Hillary and Teresa, Laura doesn’t labor under delusions about the cosmological significance of her intellect. The two Democratic dames have never had an original thought in their unappealing noggins. Hillary’s sole contribution to political philosophy is a so-far failed attempt to try and revive the North Korean, Cuban and Soviet traditions of slavery – or socialism – in medicine.
Hailed as “brilliant” by her husband and “clever” by her fans in the media, Teresa’s philanthropic forays into sick building syndrome, the “science” of ergonomics, and various forms of environmental voodoo don’t exactly meet Charles Murray’s standards of excellence, as detailed in his latest quantification of individual genius throughout the ages. For example, Teresa once noodled that “no one gets to opt out of global warming just because they question the science.” Implicit in this asinine question-begging is that global warming (or is it cooling, I’m never certain) has been proven, when in fact this Malthusian monomania has never been backed by credible evidence. (For sound science, see Bjorn Lomborg’s prodigious work.)
Nancy Reagan was accused of smuggling astrology into the White House. But if John Kerry’s saucy seer gets to sound the call of the wild from the Blue, Green, and Red Rooms, “The Day After Tomorrow,” Hollywood’s marvelously absurd environmental-fiction flick, might find expression in executive action.
Heinz Kerry bolsters her primitivism with references to her savannah-roaming days in Mozambique (she is a Mozambican of Portuguese descent). This “Daughter of Africa,” as yet more admirers have called her, claims to draw on “the natural world” to arrive at her recycled views about the direction civilization should take. Characteristically, she lumps man – the crown of creation – with “the fabulous mix of animals and bugs … droughts and downpours, flowers and trees, birds and vultures.” No wonder she once told a group of schoolchildren that she’d “like to be a dog.” (Didn’t anyone ever warn you about being careful what you wish for, Teresa?)
Much has been made of Heinz Kerry’s facility with five languages. English is clearly not one of them. “I don’t give a sh-t, you know,” she snarled when asked whether she would finally adopt her husband’s surname. In another foaming display of bad breeding (commentators call it being “authentic” and “outspoken”), Heinz Kerry contended that her husband (he denies it) suffers from battlefield flashbacks. “Down, down, down!” she savagely shrieked, imitating Kerry’s alleged night terrors. (Could they be triggered by the succubus that shares his bed?)
Teresa thinks she’s exceptional. Her claque among the cultural cognoscenti agrees. Unfortunately, they both mistake foreign and rude for worldly and sophisticated. Truth be told, the contemporary American woman is not a pretty thing. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda: Meet Teresa. You have so very
much in common, especially your self-regarding search for self-realization: “I want to make a difference”; “it’s all about tolerance, diversity of peoples and ecosystems; going with the flow, being who you are …” And SHOUTING this rubbish from the rooftops.
Teresa may be alive from the waist down – that’s more information than I need about anyone, much less about a possible first lady – but she is dead from the neck up.
©By ILANA MERCER
June 18, 2004