It is a morbid element of journalistic paranoia, only inflamed in the past four years. Macabre and inhuman as it might sound, every foreign correspondent in the US (or every voter, for that matter) would surely admit the thought has at some stage crossed his or her mind. Will the
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"I like Chris Christie," she said of the New Jersey Governor. "I hope he runs. I just worry about this man dying in office."
Christie possesses a physique you might kindly describe as "jolly". You might also, less kindly but more realistically, compare his silhouette with that of Violet Beauregarde in Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Violet eats a forbidden treat and is subjected to a rapid and violent expansion.
A Swiss Ball on steroids, Christie's silhouette cuts a near perfect orb but for the quiver of his mighty jowls.
These observations, I should add, amount to Christie's own, frank, admissions. Controlling his weight is an ongoing issue. But his own admissions are usually more tactfully crafted than to publicly question his chances of carking it on the job. There's more to health than just his fat, Christie retorted this week. He appeared on late night TV smashing a doughnut. Unless the doctor gives him a physical or examines his family history, Christie says Mariano should "shut up".
But surely the doctor has a point.
It's true Obama continues to struggle with cigarettes, and that his nicotine addiction could one day spell his end. But one need only look at Christie to know he probably risks a much more sudden departure.
If tax returns, birth certificates and religious leanings are considered fair fodder for Presidential nominees, I don't think it entirely unreasonable for a pulse to be a prerequisite, too. Being obese might not stop a person doing the job, but being dead would be a hindrance.