Massachusetts' Pork-Barrel Politician

A whale of a candidate, Jane is. Not just another pretty face. A full-figured woman. A heavyweight in GOP circles. Got a lot on her plate. Used to be a state senator but then she supersized...

You get the picture.

But Jane's mad as hell, and she's not going to take it anymore. And she's got the state's largest newspaper, or at least one of its columnists, on her side.

Okay, they all agree, it's fine to blast her for ethical failings, and they are legion. Commandeering a state police helicopter for a personal trip. Using state employees, one of whom makes $78,000 a year, to babysit her daughter. Getting not one but two sweetheart deals on apartments. (And by the way, considering she makes $145,000 a year, how come she can't afford to buy? And why doesn't her husband have a job?surely he can't be one of those "deadbeat dads" she's always railing against?)

Jane's fair game, all agree. Except when you mention her weight. Then you're walking on the fightin' side of Pittsfield's own portly pepperpot, hoss. Because, harrumphs The Boston Globe, that's "extra-nasty stuff always reserved for a woman."

I beg to disagree. Rewind to February, two days before the New Hampshire primary. Sen. Bob Kerrey of Nebraska and Rep. Jerrold Nadler of Manhattan were trying to crash an Al Gore rally when they were surrounded by Gore boors who mercilessly heckled the two Bill Bradley supporters. As you may recall, there was some outrage about what the Gore crowd boors called Kerrey, a Medal of Honor winner who lost part of his leg as a Navy SEAL in Vietnam. They called him a "cripple." You didn't hear nearly as much, though, about how they heckled the congressman from the west side. They called Nadler a "fatso."

When they yelled at Kerrey, apologies were demanded. When they yelled at Nadler, everyone chuckled. The difference is, Kerrey did something few of us would ever do?he risked his life in battle. Nadler, on the other hand, was singled out for abuse because he can't do something most of us can do, at least sporadically. He can't resist that second helping of mashed potatoes.

Granted, we live in a time of rigid, nearly absolute political correctness. Bill Clinton dares not wear a Cleveland Indians baseball cap, lest Chief Wahoo offend some well-heeled casino owner. The state of Maine just banned the word "squaw" as a place name. Because, we are told by members of Indian tribes we never heard of, the word squaw is a slur, a synonym for "whore." Who knew? In Colorado, the p.c. cops even changed the name of an endangered species, the squawfish. It is now the Colorado pikeminnow, which sounds like a show on the Cartoon Network, right after CatDog.

I've never been quite able to figure out why some groups are able to catch on as victims, but not others. For instance, cigarettes are a bitch to quit, but there's no solidarity among the stricken. Smokers endure whatever indignities are dished out, and the more they take without flinching, the more severe the next beating. AIDS?now there's a disease. Still trendy after all these years. Alcoholism is a disease too, technically anyway, but who's buying that? AIDS has a quilt, but cirrhosis of the liver doesn't even rate a lapel ribbon at the daytime Emmys. Clinton can even make jokes about Irish drunks, and nary a peep is heard. The double standard is alive and well, but the fact is, becoming a protected class is often a crapshoot, and if you win the status, immunity is close to absolute and the reparations can be immense.

Have you ever been to Foxwoods?

At this point, I should confess that I am a notorious fatophobe. I coined the locally famous nickname "Fat Boy" for Ted Kennedy. And yes, I'm the one Jane Swift would like to get off her lard ass, as my readers often describe her derriere, when they're not calling it WIDE LOAD. They think she's Crisco?fat in the can. But I'm not the only one in the media cracking wise. A sports columnist recently described the hyper-speed of a ballplayer by noting that he moved "faster than Jane Swift through the baked-goods aisle."

Last week Lt. Gov. Swift delivered yet another mea culpa?coincidence of coincidences, her most recent landlord had gotten a state housing subsidy after she moved in. But, like Sgt. Schultz, Swift knew nothing. At her confession, she wore the same outfit she'd worn the week before, when she'd tried to explain away the below-market rent she'd been paying on her previous apartment in Boston.

I mentioned Swift's lack of a suitable wardrobe to a woman lawyer with three kids.

"Oh, I understand that," she said. "She's planning to lose 20 pounds, and she's going to start the diet any day now, so she doesn't want to buy any new clothes that aren't going to fit her in a few weeks."

Anyway, on the day the Twinkies strike ended, Jane was telling a small daily down on the Rhode Island border that her weight should be "off limits." Swifty said "it sends a terrible message to girls when the media makes fun of her weight." Then she added, "I don't think that it's healthy or appropriate." Neither is being caught on live statewide television on St. Patrick's Day stuffing such large handfuls of cookies into your mouth that your cheeks puff out like a chipmunk's.

The story continued: "She said girls worry about their weight, and some turn to smoking cigarettes because of it."

This makes me Joe Camel.

So do I have Jane's argument straight? Say what you will about Jerry Nadler or Ted Kennedy?that's protected by the First Amendment. Mention Jane's shopping at Lane Bryant?that's a hate crime.

"Ridiculing the weight of a woman who some girls might consider a role model goes too far."

Role model? Surely she meant to say, dinner roll. Or jelly roll. Or Swiss roll...

Somebody stop me. It's just too easy.

"Let's face it," she said, "I'm not going to be president of the United States."

Not unless you lose 20 pounds. Or maybe 50. In the meantime, Jane, keep your chins up.

Howie Carr is a columnist for the Boston Herald and a radio talk-show host on Boston's WRKO.