That women get judged on their looks and appearance more than men is a given. It’s not right to judge a person by one’s visceral reaction to appearance, demeanor and other subjectives such as voice, height, hair style, eyes and the overall qualities that comprise what we generally consider as “looks.” I know it’s not right. Yet why do I have such a strong visceral (from “viscera”….intestines, bowels, gut; from instinct rather than intellect) negative reaction to Ted Cruz, the smarmy (totally subjective, sorry) candidate for the republican presidential nomination? His high-pitched voice perfects onomatopoeically the whine of a dentist drill with all its associated shudder and vagus-nerve inducing nausea and clammy coldness. His hunched shoulders and thrusting head produces a badgering mien threatening to cower his audience into submission. Behind a podium, he leans his skewed mis-aligned angley face downward doggedly in sarcastic towering arrogance belying his 5ft-7inch stature and with deft yet programmed hands gestures robotically in sync with sad disapproving basset hound-of-hell eyes casting damnation on all who fail to heed his admonitions. This is Ted Cruz. The slick pompadour hair harkens to a past era, a carnival barker, a Fuller Brush salesman? Under stage lights his skin reflects a pallid smeary corpse-like patina, waxen.