In Chris Matthews news:
http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2015/06/advice-to-chris-matthews-political-spouse-118671.html?ml=po#.VXMBYEaLVQI
TLDR Something something Chris Matthews Wife is running for Congress !
Kathleen Matthews announced this week that she is running for Congress in Maryland’s 8th District. If her first name sounds unfamiliar, it’s probably because you’ve seen all those headlines identifying her only as “Chris Matthews’ Wife.” Or “Wife of Chris Matthews,” to mix it up.
Ms. Matthews was a local news anchor before becoming a top executive with Marriott International. Hardly a slacker, and certainly more than the spouse of one of the loudest men on television, but that’s an essay for another time.
Today, I’m here as a columnist married to a U.S. senator to offer a few words of advice to my brand-new fellow political spouse, Chris Matthews, the host of MSNBC’s “Hardball.” I’ve lived through two of my husband Sherrod Brown’s Senate races and I still work as a journalist, despite dire predictions by a few other journalists. Virtually all of these doomsayers were male. A coincidence, I’m sure.
Enough about me. Let’s talk about you, Chris.
You said that, while your wife runs for Congress, you intend to continue hosting your national television show about politics. You vowed on the air to be fair and transparent. Go, you.
Unfortunately, now that you’re a political spouse, you may be in for a bit of surprise from some of our fellow journalists. You and I are both members of the media married to politicians, so I’m sure your experience will mirror mine, exactly. So listen to me when I tell you it’s amazing how quickly you can become that person that so many journalists like to cast as either a prop or a problem.
How on earth can the same people who’ve worked side-by-side with you for years suddenly question your ability to do your job just because your spouse is running for office? As if she’s doing your thinking for you, right? Say it just like that to them, by the way. Look those reporters and pundits in the eye and say, “Are you suggesting my opinions aren’t my own?” If possible, do it on camera so I can finally have video of their blabbering about how much they respect women. That will happen, definitely.
About your wardrobe: You like patterned shirts, I’ve noticed. That’s great if you’re trying to draw attention to yourself. You’re not supposed to do that anymore. You might even start hearing the word “beige” a lot when campaign staffers with opinions you didn’t solicit start brainstorming how to make you look invisible, or at least harmless. Narrow your eyes and offer to call their mothers. For some reason, that always scares them.
Speaking of clothes, get ready for all those questions about your wife’s appearance. Overnight, people are going to think you’re in charge of getting her ready in the morning. I used to go and on about how hard it was to keep Sherrod looking tidy and fresh, and then I learned that, in this situation, silence is the best response. A couple of weeks ago, for example, I was standing in line when a stranger approached me and said, “Connie, you need to do something about Sherrod’s shirts.” I tilted my head and said, “What is it you think I should do?” We stared at each other for about 14 seconds, until he surrendered. “You know what?” he said. “Never mind. He always looks clean.”
See how that works? This brings me to something I’ve been avoiding bringing up until now. How do I say this? Chris, I’ve been in the same room with you a few times—I was the big-haired woman standing next to the senator—and I couldn’t help but notice something else we have in common. We, my friend, are members of the wide-faced Irish who never learned how to whisper. Even when we think we’re whispering, we’re not. Ask your friends. Take in that slow, collective nod.
This is a problem easily solved with the aforementioned Stare of Silence. If your wife is the one giving the speech, stop talking. Just stop. That goes double whenever you’re tempted to interrupt her. She is not a guest on your show.
Also, whenever you attend one of her speeches, look at her, always, and with the face of the class nerd who can’t believe his luck. Whatever you do, don’t look bored. Reporters and trackers will be all over that with their smart phones and the next thing you know you’re a caption contest on Twitter.
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Finally, let’s talk about the bait-and-switch that is all too typical of some in the media. There is chance that a talk show host might lure you onto his program with the promise of a topic that has nothing to do with your marriage and then—boom—he switches on you and wants to talk about your spouse, the candidate—or, in my case, the non-candidate. And he does this on live television. I know. It sounds crazy. But I’m telling you, it happens.
About two months ago—March 2, to be exact—I was invited to join two other columnists on MSNBC to discuss Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s upcoming address to Congress. The host made a big deal about how all three of us had won the same journalism award, how smart we must be, on and on before plowing into a vigorous discussion about Israel.
And then, out of nowhere, the host asks me, “Would Sherrod Brown make a good vice presidential running mate with Hillary Clinton?”
Whaaat? I suspected red blotches were crawling up my neck, which was later confirmed by a vicious round of social media. I insisted that I don’t speak for my husband and then I made it crystal clear he was not interested in running. Lovely. After more back and forth, I finally blurted, “Thanks for reducing me to a spouse.” Don’t do that. Definitely not a graceful exit.
So, final word of advice: Watch out for that guy. Blonde. Jolly. Patterned shirts. Likes to say, “Let’s play hardball.”
Oh. Wait.
You know what? Never mind.
