Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Kucinich and His Human Pot of Gold: Post gets gross with romance tale

Posted By on Wed, Dec 5, 2007 at 4:40 PM

dennisandwife.jpg
Dennis and Elizabeth Kucinich on the campaign trail, as portrayed by the Washington Post.
Today, the Washington Post solidified its brave new image as Tiger Beat for confused middle-aged left-wingers, with a swooning, uber-fluffy account of Dennis Kucinich’s romance with his yes-she’s-hot-I-know-it’s-wierd wife, Elizabeth. He’s the 61-year old runt of the congressional litter. When he’s not perfecting his sandal tan as he stumps in Hawaii, Dennis is known mostly for his comical squeals when lashed with rat tails in the House of Representatives’ locker room before votes. Elizabeth is a 30-year old, WNBA-tall Brit who apparently resembles “Boticelli’s Venus,” but since we don’t know what that is, we’ll just say she looks like a real-life Jessica Rabbit. That’s really all the story you need to know; it’s sort of like a Leprechaun in the Hood meets English Patient tale that does not need to be told, especially in the vaunted pages of the Post. But Libby Copeland felt otherwise, penning a whimsical profile that reads like it was written with a feather dipped in a quill, and should have Fabio riding a stallion on the cover. Consider their account of their first meeting in his Congressional office, as told to Copeland from — where else? — in front of an inn’s fireplace:
She didn't know that he was attuned to the mystical, like her, or that he is vegan and has consulted a woman who teaches ‘expanded consciousness, and generally carries a tea bag in his suit pocket … Dennis watched the young woman's eyes. First they went to a bust of Gandhi sitting on his bookshelf. Then they went to a picture given to him by the Hindu nuns -- a burst of brightness against an orange background meant to depict "conscious light." Then her eyes went to his. "That was it," Dennis says now. "One, two, three." He knew. "As soon as I met him I knew my life had changed," Elizabeth says. "I knew that he was my husband." On the couch, they lean in for a kiss. [Cue harp music, sounds of retching, wail of bomb sirens]
The rest of the article is an account of all the mystical coincidences the Kuciniches use to prove that their relationship is, in fact, destined and ordained by Ganesh. There’s the blue ring Elizabeth felt “propelled” to buy after meeting Dennis, only to discover later that a design etched on it resembled “two K’s, back to back.” “'Kucinich and Kucinich,’ she says. ‘I thought, 'Okay! So I bought myself my own engagement ring!'" Copeland goes on:
Their days are filled with these sorts of moments, as when they go out for Chinese food and the fortune in Dennis's cookie tells him he has "integrity and consistency." ("Isn't that amazing?" Elizabeth says.) And then they turn the fortune over, and Dennis's Chinese word is "hat," and amazingly, Elizabeth just bought a hat before lunch.”
A political analyst might say Kucinich is slimming his already-anorexic presidential chances by submitting to such a personal piece. To which he would no doubt respond, “Have you met my improbably hot wife?!” Indeed, the article’s thesis seems to be, He’ll lose the race, but America be damned, he’s got Elizabeth. Copeland leaves her dear readers with an anecdote about Elizabeth’s famous tongue stud, and our hero resting on his hot-wife laurels:
"It's pathetic," Elizabeth says of the nation's fascination with her piercing. "I really wish people would – " She stops. "Actually, it works okay with the young people," she says. She says some time back she was out in Los Angeles, visiting an organization that works with at-risk youth and former gang members. "This young lad was taking me around, Hispanic chap. And he was really nervous," she says. "We just, like, chatted initially, and at some point I laughed and he said, 'Oh my God, you've got a tongue ring! That's so cool! I'm going to get everyone to vote for your husband!’” "Ha!" says Dennis Kucinich, looking amazed. The happiest presidential candidate laughs and laughs.
-- Gus Garcia-Roberts

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