Larry Miller: Not This Time, Buster.
First of all, isn't five thousand dollars a lot for sex? No, really. That's the first thing I thought.
I may not be a porn star with hour-long stamina and foot-long -- well, stamina, but five grand is, come on, a vacation somewhere, or a good used car, or a new kitchen, or the fanciest bar-mitzvah in 1976. But one orgasm? Even two small ones. Are you kidding me? Never mind right or wrong, I just think it's an awful lot of money.
Even for the prettiest girl in the world -- and, frankly, what are the odds his "date" was that -- she's just a woman and you're just a middle-aged man with thin hair, and the whole thing is over and done with, and she's getting dressed while you're standing in a shower pretty much like the one you have at home. I know what I'd be thinking: "Five grand. Whoa. I may be the dumbest guy in history. Lucky for me I'm the governor of a big state."
Second, if there's a cheesier name in the history of hooking than "Emperor's Club VIP," I'd like to know what it is. A team of comedy writers could work for a month and not beat it. Eucchhh. It even smells a little right through the TV, doesn't it? "Emperor's Club VIP" is so low it makes Telly Savalas for "The Player's Club" look like Twelfth Night.
Third -- and this is really the only important thing to me -- I've had it with these guys forcing their wives to stand up there with them.
Seriously. There's no reason for it. It doesn't help the family, it doesn't help the state, it doesn't help the country or the culture, and it surely doesn't help the wife.
Actually, there is one reason for it: The self-absorbed son-of-a-bitch is still in such deep denial of what he's done, he actually thinks showing his shaken wife might salvage his career.
You know what I'd like to see? Just once? I'd like to see the wife interrupt his limp, stupid attempt at grandeur and step forward and say, "Excuse me, folks, but there's something I'd like to say here." Then I'd like her to whip around and punch him right in the nose. Bang. It doesn't have to knock him down, and probably wouldn't, but the look on his face would be worth it. Then she could shout, "You want to lick your wounds? Why don't you get your whore girlfriend to do it? What's she get for that, ten thousand?"
Then she could straighten her pearls, raise her chin and walk off stage.
I don't think there's a man or woman, young or old, left or right, gay or straight who wouldn't want to see that.
Hey, here's a better idea. If Hillary Clinton becomes president, and has an affair while in office -- I'm not saying she should, I'm just saying if -- I think this is the way to guarantee her election.
Think about it: If, in the next big speech or debate she says, "I promise to have an affair in my first hundred days -- or a hundred affairs on my first day -- and then hold a big press conference to apologize, where my husband has to stand a few inches behind me with his hands folded looking hurt but supportive. Further, I promise it won't be a fast statement with no questions where the guy turns tail and darts off stage, but I'll answer every question from every reporter -- print, TV, magazines, foreign press, cable access, stringers, free-lancers, bloggers, C-span, hobbyists, amateurs, escaped mental patients, everybody -- including follow-ups. I'll even throw in a bathroom break. During that, everyone can leave their cameras on Bill's face and show me just staring at him. Then we'll all adjourn to the bar at the Mayflower for drinks. On Bill. One of those road speeches of his could keep the press corps drinking for a year, even if you throw in congress. If it goes really well we'll do the whole thing again the next day. Maybe once a week. Invite regular people from every state who aren't even writers. And at the end of every one, I'll smile at him sweetly and say, 'What's the matter, honey? Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.' Then I'll stroll offstage whistling."
Forget health care or terrorism or the economy. There isn't one voting American who wouldn't get a kick out of seeing that.
And, by the way, the rest of the world would be terrified.
Now that's what I call unity.

[The Full Feed from HuffingtonPost.com]
3:57:28 PM
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