Creep of the Week - January 31, 1998
Bill Clinton and Kenneth Starr
"Gladiator and Glad He Ate Her"
Two of the sleaziest, slimiest characters ever to grace our political landscape are now engaged in a fight
to the finish in which only one will remain standing. The bad news for us is that this won't be one of those
featherweight three-round bouts where the skinny little adversaries run to the center of the ring and
start pummeling
each other like madmen. No, Bill Clinton and Kenneth Starr are more like two corpulent, overage
ultra-heavyweights who can only manage one or two punches before they collapse back on the ropes,
out of breath and ready to drop, trying to think up one more underhanded trick that will give them
enough energy to go another round. We're in for the long haul on this one,
folks, so sit back and hold on to your noses, because both these guys smell like a semen-stained dress
that's been rotting in Monica Lewinsky's closet for a year.
What have we learned about this awful mess in the past week? Not a damn thing. Despite blanket, 24-hour
media coverage, dozens of subpoenas, hundreds of expert pundit opinions and thousands of rumors,
we're as much in the dark about the facts of this case as we were a week ago. Here's a
capsule summary:
In the Democratic corner, wearing the cocky grin:
- After a few days worth of his standard lawyerly, cleverly-worded denials, Bill looked us all straight
in the face and said "I did not have sexual relations with that woman" and "I never told anybody to lie."
Even for a guy who likes to live as close to the edge as he does, this is a high stakes gamble. Either he's
telling the whole truth (unlikely), or he doesn't think Kenneth can prove anything (probably accurate).
- The next day, Bill went ahead with the State of the Union Address and a few public appearances
just like nothing had happened. The word from the White House is that he'll have no more to say on the
subject. This is like a variation of "The Emperor's New Clothes" where the president parades past
a crowd in all
his official grandeur, which causes an innocent but prescient child to say "But he's wearing no pants
and he has a hard-on!"
- Hillary went on the road to denounce the "vast right-wing conspiracy" that has been out to get Bill
ever since he gave them a reason for existing by being elected president. There certainly are a number
of people whose entire lives and livelihoods are devoted to destroying both Clintons, but Bill's constant
peccadillos put food in their mouths. And the mouths of a few young women, too.
And in the Republican corner, wearing the sanctimonious scowl:
- Kenneth dispatched a few of his winged monkeys out to Portland, Oregon, to investigate Andy Bleiler,
a married school teacher and kiss-and-tell wanker who's been spinning locker room tales of a
five-year affair with Monica when she was a teenager. He claims to have relevant documents in a safe
deposit box. Forged "Please excuse Monica from school because she had to blow the president" notes?
- Using tactics worthy of the Gestapo, Kenneth hauled Bob Weiner, a spokesman for Bill's drug policy
director, into court. Bob's sin? He had called Democratic party officials to encourage them in their efforts
to prosecute Monica's Judas-like friend, Linda Tripp, for illegally taping their phone calls.
- Kenneth labeled Hillary's charges "nonsense" while continuing an investigation instigated by Linda and
her publicist, Lucianne Goldberg, who originally met while collaborating on a book about - what else? -
the murder of Vince Foster.
What can we expect next week?
- Bill will seek to clarify his remarks on what "sexual relations" really are by saying
"The only mouths my schlong's been in are Hillary's and Buddy's."
- Kenneth will subpoena Monica's orthodontist to determine whether the direction of her teeth
match the curvature reported by Paula Jones.
And here's the really bizarre part of this whole sad spectacle: Since the scandal broke, Bill's public
approval ratings
have reached record highs! Interpret that news however you like, but those rabid Clinton haters who've
been pissing their pants in glee during these events
must have dropped something considerably more solid after hearing it.
So the show goes on. Will the winner kindly fumigate the room before turning out the lights?
Let me know what you think at
montgome@servtech.com
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