Creep of the Week - August 22, 1998

Image: Bill & Monica

Bill Clinton
"Philanderer In Chief"
Don't you hate it when someone lies to you? I'm not talking about a used car salesman giving you his patented line of bullshit about how the car was only used by a little old lady to go to church on Sundays. The salesman knows he's lying, you know he's lying, and he knows you know he's lying. That's just standard business practice. I'm also not talking about a politician's empty promises of what he'll do and not do if you'll only vote for him. Nobody believed George Bush's "Read my lips, no new taxes" pledge, not even his wife. That's just part of democracy in action.

The kind of lie I really hate is when a guy looks me in the eye and wags his finger in my face and says, "I didn't do it!" I may choose to believe him or not, but if I find out later that he really did do it, I'm going to be really pissed off, not so much because he lied to me, but because he thought I was stupid enough to believe him. As we know now, Bill Clinton lied to us all back in January when he denied a sexual relationship with that woman, Miss Lewinsky. I don't think I ever really believed him, but I assumed that no one would ever be able to prove him wrong. So did he. Bill forgot about the dress. Or never imagined Monica would take it home and save it. Or just thought he'd never get caught.

I'm not sure what Bill was trying to accomplish with his confession this week, but his combination of defiance and swagger managed to piss off everyone in the entire country. Me. Hillary. Monica. Democrats were pissed because they spent the last seven months defending him and now look like gullible idiots. Republicans were pissed because he spent half the speech ranting about Ken Starr. People who don't give a damn about any of this grossness were pissed because Bill's speech pre-empted both Monday Night Football and The Miss Teen USA Pageant. (I am, however, somewhat proud that Bill followed, almost word for word, the speech I wrote for him a few weeks ago. Maybe we should add plagiarism to his list of sins.)

Think where Bill would be right now if he'd never dropped the Presidential Pants. He'd be facing no legal problems whatsoever. No Paula Jones. No Whitewater, Filegate or Travelgate. Not even a parking ticket. Ken Starr would be just another tight-assed, hyper-ventilating prosecutor who went out on an expensive wild goose chase and came home empty handed. Monica would be just another young bimbo making it through life with no assets other than a nice set of jugs. Linda Tripp would be just another crapulous, fat pig.

But it was not to be. Although we've all had a lot of titillation and entertainment from this semen-soaked scene, one aspect of it makes me want to cry and puke at the same time. I've always admired Bill and Hillary for the way their daughter seems to adore them. When they take one of those family walks from the White House to the waiting helicopter, Chelsea is always arm-and-arm with her Dad, giving him a dazzling smile and one of those "You're my hero" gazes. That's rare for an 18-year-old in 1998. I imagine she's grown up quite a bit in the last few days.

I grew up a long time ago and generally think of myself as being pretty jaded. But right now, I think I know how Chelsea feels.

Let me know what you think at montgome@servtech.com

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