Is going to be the bad boy of the senate. Like, sitting in the back with mirrored aviators and a leather jacket, kicking back with his Converse propped on Robert Byrd's head, saying, "Jerks, I do whatever the hell I want. (Chongs a toothpick)" Add illiteracy, and it's a regular after school special.
The big news story this week is New York Governor Elliot Spitzer’s dalliance with a prostitute; and his subsequent resignation. I do not intend to pass moral judgment on the Governor’s actions – although personally, I believe this to be a matter between him and his wife; and his conscience, if he has one. It is not really the public’s business; except for the suggestion that the Governor may have used tax dollars to finance his escapades. Pretty stupid to leave a paper trail, if you ask me. Even a dumb crook knows that, if you’re carrying out a transaction you want to keep secret, you always pay in cash.
This article, however, is not about Governor Spitzer. It is about Ashley Alexandra Dupre. A week ago, you would have been quite justified in asking, Ashley who? But now the young lady is getting far more than her 15 minutes of fame. Her picture is already splashed across newspapers all over the world; she even got herself mentioned on CNN and BBC.
There seems to be an Obama mania sweeping across the United States at the moment. He is being variously portrayed as the new Messiah, the new broom that is going to sweep away the sorry legacy of George Bush; and the brand ambassador of a vibrant, young America.
As an outsider, I find it surprising how often US political debate descends to the level of cherchez la femme. This is particularly apparent during Presidential campaigns. Dukakis had his dangerous liaisons, Bill Clinton had Gennifer Flowers; and now John McCain is purported to have had (literally) a former female lobbyist, Vicky Iseman. Discovering that a candidate has had an amour proper is regarded as the ultimate smoking gun; one that has the potential to annihilate entire careers.
The French, of course, would laugh at this absurdity. Nicolas Sarkozy positively flaunted the gorgeous Carla Bruni (until he later ruined it by marrying her) and his people loved him for it. But in America, having, or admitting to, a brief lapse in hormonal judgment is regarded as the kiss of death. This is particularly hypocritical in a nation where a recent survey revealed that more than half of all couples in America are living together (primarily for sex) without a marriage certificate.
I am kind of surprised that conspiracy theorists and assorted nut jobs have gone underground in this US election year. Come to think of it, they haven’t surfaced at all. Come on guys, some of the Presidential candidates are out there are tailor made for spinning conspiracies around. Get your heads out of your rear ends and start squawking. I’ll even give you a few pointers to start you off.
George Bush's perpetual smirk has recently got smirkier. After years of being booed and hissed at, folks were finally beginning to appreciate that he is really a nice guy.
Take this week, for instance. A reigning pop diva had composed a song especially for him. And what inspiring lyrics.
"Thank you for democracy
Thank you for the rule of law
Thank you for debt relief"
Ok, so it didn't rhyme, but it's the thought that counts. He witnessed rapturous crowds singing hosannas to him for his role on terror. They cheered his forward thinking foreign policy; they sang paeans to his magnanimous aid packages to less privileged nations; and they were in awe of his innovative trade agreements. Heck, one bloke high up in the government told him his popularity rating was up in the nineties.
If I was to start this article with the sentence, “I have a problem with George Bush”, the predictable response from many Americans would be, “doesn’t everybody?” My problem is different, however. I genuinely want to like the guy. Let’s face it. Bush may be a moron when it comes to foreign policy, but his heart is in the right place. My problem is that Bush makes it so hard for me to like him.
Once upon a time, there lived a feisty little cat named Socks. He wasn’t a sleek Persian, or even a Siamese. Actually, he wasn’t handsome at all – being a sort of indeterminate black and white – and, truth be told, there was an element of doubt about his parentage. But Socks didn’t care, because he lived in a magnificent white castle; and his owners were the greatest king and queen in all the world. Thanks to them, his name was known throughout the land. What’s more, the fair princess doted on him and gave him treats. Yes, life was good for Socks.
On a recent episode of the Tonight show, Jay Leno asked his studio audience how many had watched a presidential debate broadcast the previous evening. Out of the few thousand folks in the audience, not a single hand went up. However, most of them had watched the continuing prison saga of Paris Hilton. I know many readers will shrug their shoulders and sneer, “What do you expect from a Jay Leno audience?” However, leaving aside the intellectual types, I believe his audience represents a fair cross section of American society – even while conceding that Los Angeles can hardly be said to be ‘typical’ America.
Earlier today, I was conned by a Writernia Google ad soliciting writers for a local city- life site. While appearing to be backed by city government, it was not. It's hidden agenda was to raise money for the mayor's re-election, - anything but a class act. I declined immediately. and forwarded the info to a S.F. reporter I know.
When I logged in just now to tell the story, another header box advertised to expose a large number of bogus scams, while showing the respondent which scams actually WORK.
I wanted to wash off my computer screen, but the scum was on the inside.
Point being that we have no control over what is being attached to our writing, and should not trust even Google to exercise my own integrity.
I love this site, but don't want my dangerous mind to get in the way of other writers' income.
Any ideas?
-Arye Michael Bender
