Hillary's big mouth, that's what. Followed by Bill's, of course. Talk magazine, which several weeks ago managed to get Rudy Giuliani to look like a fool, evidently drugged Hillary into talking about Bill's sexual exploits. What could she possibly say that hadn't been said by someone already? How about "Grandma made him do it"? In an interview with the magazine, Hillary tells us what's behind Bill's philandering: "He was so young, barely four, when he was scarred by abuse. There was terrible conflict between his mother and grandmother. A psychologist once told me that for a boy being in the middle of a conflict between two women is the worst possible situation. There is always a desire to please each one."
Abuse? What kind of abuse, Bill? Physical? Sexual? Removed from breast feeding too soon? Bill went immediately into his patented "Aw shucks" mode: "I didn't have a bed of roses as a kid. I haven't made an excuses for what was inexcusable and neither has she - believe me." In other words, "I shagged all those chicks on my own and nobody better be dissin' my mama!"
Ball's in your court, Hillary. Would you like to backtrack? "I believe everyone is responsible for his or her behavior, including the president and all the rest of us."
Time for a clarification: "She did not say the president's childhood in any way caused his behavior, nor does she believe that," says spokeswoman Marsha Berry.
Tell us more, Hillary! Give us the slimy details! What did you say to him? What do you think of Monica? Did you kick his ass? Did he beg for forgiveness? Don't leave us hanging now! "I really believe strongly that this is an issue that the country has put behind us and I have as well. I've said all I'm going to say on that."
It's not that easy, girl. Now everyone who doesn't want to see you become a Senator (a group which is growing larger by the day) can quite rightly accuse you and your husband of engaging in some old-fashioned, 70's-style, circle-jerk, psycho-babble. Maybe if you and Jerry Springer both get elected to the Senate you can be part of his "Famous First Ladies Whose Husbands Played Cigar Tricks With Interns" show.
Now you say you're not going to talk about it anymore. Hey, you started it, you gotta finish it. If you really want to put this thing to bed, once and for all, the next time a reporter asks about where Bill's dong has been diddling, here's your response: "Bill? That slimy, slot-doctoring, slut-chasing slagger? Why the hell should I care who he's humping? We haven't had sex since 1982. And he was no hot stud in bed anyway! All that southern-fried sexy charm is just a front. Get him in the sack and after fifteen seconds he'll yell 'Sooooooo-weeeeeee!' and fall down on the bed like a beached whale! And besides that, he squeezes the K-Y jelly in the middle of the tube! What a loser!"
You do that for me, Hillary, and I promise never to write about Bill's tawdry sex life or any related topics again. From now on, the only guy's dick I care about is my own. Well, on second thought, I am going to write about Ken Starr when he finally goes out of business, if I haven't died of old age by then. And in the unlikely event that Linda Tripp's fat butt ever sees the inside of a jail cell, I'll be sponsoring a fireworks extravaganza right here on your computer screen.
But that's it. I have a whole backlog of workplace killers to get to.
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