Creep of the Week - August 1, 1998
Linda put on a performance full of drama and paranoia. Voice shaking, lips quivering, and chins rolling, she choked out, "I became aware between 1993 and 1997 of actions by high government officials that may have been against the law. The things I witnessed ... made me increasingly fearful that this information was dangerous, very dangerous to possess. I have been maligned by people who have chosen not to tell the truth and who know they are not telling the truth. This investigation have never been, quote, 'just about sex.' It has been about telling the truth. The truth matters."
Well, Linda, I guess you've given us all something to think about. Yes, the truth matters. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we started hearing some? In the spirit of public service, I'm offering my own set of talking points to Bill, Monica and Linda, who are cordially invited to use them in their public statements and testimony. This is the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth. So help me God.
LINDA TRIPP: My father and husband both treated me like the despicable fat sow that I am and as a result, I hate men. Not only that, I hate women who like men. But you know what really drives me up the wall? Pretty, frilly, empty-headed women with Pepsodent smiles and big tits who make a career of sucking up to powerful sexist pigs. Yeah, you know who I'm talking about - Monica! Every day she'd be parading back and forth in those short skirts and low cut tops, cooing in that cute, sexy voice of hers, "Good morning, Mr. President! Here's those papers for you to sign, Mr. President! How do you like my beret, Mr. President?" It was enough to make me want to puke up my doughnuts, bacon and sausage.
So I wired myself up and taped her. "Hey Monica," I'd say, "Tell me again about how Bill stained your dress. Say it slowly and speak into my corsage." You should have seen the look on her pretty little Jewish face when the FBI broke in on our lunch (cheese fries and ham hocks) and she realized that I'd set her up! I haven't felt so wonderful since I made that pizza with so much grease it poured off and ran all the way down my arm!
MONICA LEWINSKY: Bill's the president! How could I say no? He had to put up with that mean, nagging, large-mouthed wife of his and he needed some TLC that I was more than happy to supply. Bill gave me a book of poems and a sweater and knee pads embossed with the presidential seal! He arranged a real nice job in New York for me until that bloated, bull-dyke bitch ruined everything! Now I spend all my time giving depositions and trying to look demure while running through hordes of photographers. I can't wait until Bill's out of office so he can dump the wife and marry me like he promised.
BILL CLINTON: Yeah, I was shagging her! So what? I'm the God Damned President! What business is it of yours? Blow me! Hey, Ken, you want cum stains? Forget that dress. Check the carpet under my desk. Check the ceiling in the pantry. Check the sink in the bathroom. Check your wife's mouth!
That's right - I committed perjury and obstructed justice. What are you going to do about it? You think those Republican eunuchs in Congress are going to impeach me? Hah! Hillary has more balls than the whole lot of them! If the American people wanted a president who doesn't have sex, they could have elected Ross Perot. Now, where are my golf clubs?
The crosses have been built and the Roman soldiers are standing around with their hammers, ready to crucify someone. Who gets clemency and who gets nailed when the procession finally ends? Don't touch that dial.
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