Pesky Open Letter to The Clintons

Dear Mr. Former President Clinton:

Stop it. Just stop it.

You’re turning into Ralph Nader and I don’t like it. Not one damn bit. I can’t afford to have another Political Hero self-flushed down the porcelain conveyance. Yeah, I know. “Political Hero”is as close to being an Oxymoron as one can get these days…

But Mr. President, you’re the guy we pointed to when people said, okay who would be better than Bush? You’re the guy who managed the deficit, whose administration takes the wind out of the sails of the current crew when they trickle down all over themselves.

You ran such an efficient and reasonable Presidency, the only real argument they have against you is the fact you couldn’t keep your Johnson properly housed. I’ll take an Oval Office Hummer over an Endless War eight days a week and twice on Monica. To paraphrase Lincoln’s line about General Grant and booze, send a squad of interns out to service other politicians. Or give the job to Eliot Spitzer. He’s available.

You weren’t a perfect President. You did embarrass the office with the Monica thing, and NAFTA was something more in tune with Republican thinking. But as presidents go last century, you done good. Leave us our memories. We know you feel obliged to get the Missus elected, but this isn’t the way.

You’re whip smart, Mr. President, but you already know that. Obviously, you’re ten times smarter than the guy who said he wanted to put food on his family. But your smarts are a double-edge sword. We don’t buy it when you say you misspoke or forgot to mention Obama is a patriot, or claim your wife’s dirty campaign is really good for the Dems because it toughens up Obama.

You know and I know what Hillary and you and your hired guns have been doing lately has the stink of desperation on it. And it only benefits John McCain. While you and your lady have sniped at a fellow Dem, McCain has run with the opportunity to rise above the pettiness and—dare I say it—look Presidential.

Maureen Dowd and others say you and Hill are intentionally sinking the Dems chances so McCain can serve out Bush’s third term, and Hillary can run again in 2012. If so, it makes the Republican Swiftboating of Senator Kerry in 2004 look like a Swan Boat ride in the Public Garden by comparison. It’s like torpedoing your own fleet before a battle, in hopes of rebuilding it for the next one.

Keep it up and you and Hillary will guarantee at least four more years of Republican rule. That would mean four more years of Americans dying in Iraq (and perhaps Iran), four more years of a ruinous economic plan, and scarier yet, two or more Republican Supreme Court justices.

And yes, I know Senator Obama and his people aren’t pure as the driven snow either. But most people perceive his behaviors as a response to your escalating personal attacks, not a response, not an opening shot. Dirty politics.

You’ve served your country for most of your professional life. It needs you more than ever. Instead of assuring more Republican misery, we need the Clintons to join with the one person who can beat John McCain.

Pesky Pseudo Psychic Prize Goes to: AEI

This week's Pesky Pseudo Psychic Prize Goes to Fred Kagan of the American Enterprise Institute. On Monday, Fred, whose chins are listed in the Guinness Book of World Records, told the Iraq Planning Group's Phase IV Conference in Washington, DC:

“The first thing I want to say is that: The Civil War in Iraq is over. And until the American domestic political debate catches up with that fact, we are going to have a very hard time discussing Iraq on the basis of reality. I’d now like to invite all of you to join me for some lovely chocolate gumdrops left me by the Easter Bunny.”

Okay, I made up the part about the Easter Bunny. But in case you've been hiding under a rock, or writing policy for the Bush administration, or both, less than 24 hours after this Right Wing Think Tank Bozo’s comments, McClatchy News Service reported:

"With Iraq's top leaders directing the battle, Iraq's army and national police pressed a major operation Tuesday to wrest control of the southern port city of Basra from the Shiite Mahdi Army militia. Fighting between government forces and the militia quickly spread through Iraq's south and into Baghdad."

As of this writing, Baghdad is in lockdown, the Green Zone is under rocket attacks that have led to the death of two Americans and two of the Vice President’s guards. (No, not our Veep, their Veep).

As our winnner, Fred receives an historical, autographed photo of John McCain strolling through that Baghdad marketplace with 100 of his closest, armed-to-the-teeth, friends.

For more information on the AEI and some of their other similiarly well-researched policy studies, click here, here and here.

PESKY OPEN LETTER: What the Hell's Wrong with MSNBC?

To paraphrase the late humorist Fred Allen, you could put all I know about the Economy in a flea’s navel and still have room left over for three caraway seeds and an agent’s heart.

So I was watching Senator Obama’s speech on the Economy today with a combination of bewilderment and fascination. While what I heard made sense, I suspect what will linger long after speech was the memorable catch phrase he uttered about Sen. McCain, who he said was running for George Bush’s third term as President. As the economic mess and Mesopotamia mess vie to see who’s going to Hell faster, Obama’s effort to associate Granpa with the people responsible for both disasters makes sense.

Before his speech had even ended, McCain had issued a statement accusing Obama of the crime of Liberalism, and MSNBC, which was carrying the speech live, cut away. Why? To get back to what they do best—turn presidential politics into a Hybrid circus--half Dancing with the Stars, half Maury! (Seems they had some more dirt on Reverend Wright that just could not wait.)

What in the high holy Hell is wrong with you MSNBC? Aside from your one bright shining star—Keith Olbermann—the rest of your programming is bad and getting worse.

Dumping the Tuckster was a good idea, but replacing him with Journalist turned Karl Rove Backup dancer David Gregory? I don’t watch the new show much because every time I tune in I see tiny boxes filled with talking heads, one of whom is always Pat Buchanon. And Pat Buchanon makes my dog yak up her Alpo.

And the one thing the 24/7s don’t need are more hours devoted just to politics. (And almost exclusively presidential politics, at that. Had MSNBC dumped out of Obama for updates on the latest post Surge resurgence of violence in Iraq, I could understand. But MSNBC is so far behind the power curve in Iraq, I had to tune over to Fox News—FOX!—to get a live update from that beleaguered nation. They had some Scotsman named MacDonald reporting live. Yes, American TV is now outsourcing it’s war coverage.

Meanwhile, two Americans have been killed by recent shelling in Baghdad’s Green Zone. (as of 3 PM PDT) The U.S. Military blames Iranian-backed Shiite Militiamen. George Bush blames Congress. John McCain blames Mongol Insurgents, trained by al Qaeda in Philadelphia. The Mainstream media has bought the Administration line of hooey that the Surge has worked so it may take them a while to realize it hasn’t.

Pesky Letter: The Bush Who Cried Wolf

A Pesky Letter to Michael Mukasey

Dear Attorney General Mukasey:

Imagine how surprised I was to read that you were “surprised at how surprised” you are at all that Terror that’s out there just waiting to kill us. You continued that "It's surprising how varied [the threat] is, how many directions it comes from, how geographically spread out it is.”

And whattaya know, you said all this right when the President of the Newnitted States is trying to ram an anti-Privacy Bill down willing beaks of Congress and the American people.

The beauty part is how you delivered your warning. Mikey. (May I call you Mikey? “Mr. Attorney General” sounds too formal for someone trying to make us crap our pants.) Anyway, CNN said you made the comment while “at an informal meeting” with reporters in your office.

Well, we all know how much the Bush administration likes to dish with members of the 4th Estate. No subterfuge there, certainly. Your timing was beautiful, too. It was a shot sent across the bow of U.S. American Christians just as they’re getting ready to celebrate Easter. Not so fast, Good Christians, you implied. There’s godless terror extant. Evildoers everywhere are making ready to bite the head off Peter Cottontail and poop in your Easter baskets.

“Details! Give us details and specifics,” the insider reporters most certainly shouted. No neophytes they, these are people who cut their journalistic Eye Teeth on the balderdash of Brittney, the prevarications of Paris, the fabrications of Federline.

“No you dih-uhnt,” you responded. You refused to offer details, specifics or Data. You let their imaginations stew along with their perceived status of insider privilege to great effect. This wasn’t some official pronouncement to get lost in the news clutter of a holiday weekend. No this was Scoop stuff—sure to be breathlessly reported.

And so, Mikey, you got to me. I’m sitting here with a clenched knot in my stomach, fearful that I’m gonna die, knowing as sure as Martha has Vandellas, there’s nowhere to run to, baby, nowhere to hide.

There’s just one teensy, tiny little thing.

I don’t believe you.

Oh it’s not you, Mikey. You haven’t been in office long enough to build my distrust. It’s that guy you work for. He’s a—what’s the Euphemism for it?—oh, the hell with it, lets call a Spade a Spade—he’s a liar. How do we know when Bush is lying? When his lips move. (Okay, that’s not a new joke, but then Bush has been lying for a long, long time.)

It hasn’t taken you long to come up to speed with the way they do things in your boss’s administration, Mikey. After all, the President and his Crew are past masters at terrorizing the people they were elected to serve. They’ve been warning us that we’re all gonna die if we don’t do exactly what they tell us to do for quite some time now. As you know, the current focus is on a little piece of legislation called the FISA Bill.

Congress, under the delusion they were elected to govern the American populace too, want to have something to say about FISA. Some Americans even suspect our elected representatives are actually getting up on their hind legs and saying, “Hey, we’re part of the Constitutional process, too, Mr. President, I mean Sir, er, that is, Your Majesty….”

No Mikey, you are just the latest Bush surrogate being used to put the American citizenry in our place, said place being ducking, covering, and cringing under our desks. You have reached into the darkest corners our scared little psyches and addressed our reptilian brains directly. Your message is as clear as the Good Terminator’s warning to Sarah Connor: “Come (along) with me if you want to live.”

The tragedy of all this is there is Terror out there. There are plenty of bad guys who wish us ill. Some hate us because they are truly Evildoers; others hate us because they’ve been driven to it by the behaviors of the Bush Administration.

And if we let our guard down, it’s not because the American people, or Liberals, or those who oppose the President don’t have the backbone to stand up to the real terrorists. It’s because we’ve become deafened by Bush’s incessant plays upon our fears, offered not as fair warning, but to feed the President’s urge to consolidate his own power, and excuse his past behavior.

And as sure as I know that any future terrorist action will be blamed on anyone who stood up to Bush’s Politics of Terrorism, that’s how sure I am that the real blame falls on the Bush who cried Wolf.

Eli Stone Wins Psychic Shaker Pesky Prize

Maybe he IS Psychic. regardles, the first ever Prestidigitator Pesky Prize (#5) goes to the writers, actors, executive producers and staff psychics of the ABC program “Eli Stone.” The topic of their March 20th episode was their protagonist, Eli Stone, sensing a message from God that an earthquake would hit the San Francisco Bay area immediately.

Hey, it’s a fictional program. It was conceived, written and shot weeks or months ago. Yet starting less than three hours before the program aired, and continuing until a few hours after it ended, a series of 20 non-fiction Earthquakes, called a “swarm,” really hit in the East Bay area near San Francisco.

Pesky Prize # 4 Hail Britannia

Okay, maybe we aren't as dumb as we look. Turns out our little tagalong Coalition of the Willing partners may be stupider than we US Americans.

Hence, today’s Pesky Prize (#4) goes to one out of three English Kidlets. According to a survey in the Daily Telegraph taken between molar extractions, one-third of English youngsters surveyed think Sir Winston Churchill was the first man to walk on the Moon.

Idiots! Everyone knows Neil Armstrong was the first man to walk on the Moon. Churchill was second.

Open Letter to a Wartime President

Dear Mr. “Wartime” President:

Congratulations on completing your fifth year of stewardship over the war in Iraq. Or as John McCain might put it, five years down, only 95 more to go. From reading your comments over the years, I know you believe History will judge your adventure kindly. And there’s a reasonable explanation for that. You’re delusional.

But rather than discuss your Legacy, or how survivors will judge you in the future, let’s discuss the impact of your time in office on present day America, shall we?

In a sense, your Presidency started in a preschool classroom September 1l, 2001, where you sat crouched behind a children’s book for a quarter of an hour as the Nation you professed to love was under attack by the Evildoers you profess to hate. You said you stayed “for the kids,” not wanting to upset them. There’s an explanation for that, too. You have never, ever, not even once admitted you’ve made a mistake, misjudgment, or bad call.

Despite that scared little boy expression on your face, you say it wasn’t fear that kept you there. But it’s not like you have a rep for bravery. When given an opportunity to get some combat use out of that expensive fighter-pilot training taxpayers paid for, you chose to run away from serving in Vietnam. You quit as a pilot, and then you disappeared from the National Guard unit your Daddy got you into. Years later, you would lament that you could not join the men and women you sent to fight and die overseas 30 years later on what you called a “romantic” quest. And yes, there’s even an explanation for that. You are shameless.

But that’s the past. Let’s talk about today, a point in time before “History” has a chance to reflect on your years as President. Mr. President, We the People are in a miserable mess.

You didn’t invent dirty campaigning, but you, and your gutter slime advisors, have raised it to an art form. No one trusts you any more. If space aliens landed on the White House lawn, or Russia put missiles in Cuba again, no one would believe your warnings.

This very day, the mid-West is taking a historic weather pounding and is flooding again, while the Southwest and Southeast continue to suffer from record drought. Oh, sure, can’t blame you for all Acts of God, but you’ve denied the Big Guy any help at all keeping the planet habitable. Your denial Global Climate change has battered this country and and lead to anti-American feeling around the world.

You have squandered a Trillion dollars in Iraq, billions of which just got misplaced along the way. You have killed almost 4,000 Americans there. You have sent them to war in inadequate equipment, and when the good stuff got there, it got chewed up with overuse.

You have brought untold misery on soldiers forced to serve multiple tours, and vets mistreated when they returned to the military hospitals you under funded. You have cut their benefits.

You have gutted the middle class, ignored the poor. Even some of the ultra rich, who you coddled with tax breaks, have suffered under your stewardship. A receding tide strands all boats.

You have mortgaged America’s future. You inherited an economy that ran without a deficit and built the greatest deficit in American history, a yoke around the neck of America’s children’s children’s children.

You’ve overseen jobs fleeing overseas. You’ve watched the dollar fall to historic lows. You have presided over the collapse of the housing market. You’ve failed to protect us form poisoned and defective imports. Because of you and your war and your tax cuts, there is no money to rebuild a collapsing infrastructure. Your own party’s convention will have to detour around a collapsed bridge outside of Minneapolis-St. Paul.

You fiddled while New Orleans drowned, and have done nothing to restore that city to its former greatness.

You have built an inept homeland security system. At airports we are protected from smuggled baby formula and those with more than three ounces of shampoo, but test after test have shown the system’s inefficiency in things that matter. You would have allowed the security of our ports to be outsourced.

You have chewed huge chunks out of American’s Rights to Privacy, and the Constitution is under assault as never before. You have politicized the Justice Department, caused many Americans to distrust that lynchpin of democracy, the honesty of our voting procedures.

By putting yourself above the law, by your dirty campaigns, with your mangling of simple English and by your shameless lies, you have done more to cause Americans to lose faith in their Government than even Nixon could ver dream of obtaining.

There is less than a year left of your misbegotten Presidency, a fact many citizens remember by wearing or carry reminders (1-20-09) of the day our long National Nightmare will officially end. Sadly, the damage will not conclude on that day. You have proven the adage that the evil men do lives long after them—especially when they get to make Supreme Court appointments.

Even more worrisome, there’s still time for it to get worse under you. Your ruined economy may yet collapse entirely. With the latest in a long line of skilled military men forced out of their jobs for daring to disagree with you, you’ve assured that War with Iran is still in play. The Taliban is back. Your fabled Surge is sagging in Iraq. The man who you couldn’t find, Osama bin Laden may yet row unmolested up the Hudson on an amphibious suitcase nukecanoe.

So we’re still watching you. And it won’t take History for most of us to know this is no Ship of State you captain, but a leaking Swiftboat of Fools.

Pesky Prize # 4: Bear Barrel Polka

The St. Paddy’s Day Pesky Prize goes to “Mad Money” host Jim Cramer. As some of you know, a share of Bear Stearns stock, which was trading at more than $170 a year ago and $60 a few days ago, on Monday wasn’t worth enough to buy you a green beer at a Wall Street pub. Cramer, who brings to his show the quiet professionalism of Vince McMahon and soft-spoken demeanor of a recently debrided burn victim, answered an email from one of his viewers who can write on March 11th. The viewer wondered if “he should take his money out” of Bear Stearns.

Responded Cramer: “No No No Bear Stearns is fine. Do not take your money out….don’t move your money from Bear…that’s just silly. That would just be silly.”

Catch Jon Stewart’s take on Cramer on Monday’s The Daily Show (show #13026),. It’s about about five minutes into the first item.

YouTube has the Cramer excerpt and his response on another CNBC show.

I don’t speak Finance, and if you don’t either you’ll need a translator to understand his explanation. However, I do speak fluent Gobbledegook, and I believe he said his earlier advice was correct, everybody did fine, and/or if you take him seriously, you deserve to go broke.

Meanwhile, Stewart recommends you catch Cramer’s new program: “No Matter How Good I Am at This Over the Next 10 Years I Will Never Make Up the Amount of Money I Blew For People Last Tuesday”

Eye Spy with My Excellent Eyes...

It's been three months since my right eyeball got the lube and filter treatment called a Vitrectomy, so I just had my final follow-up appointment this week. Dr. Steven Schwartz, Retina Hooha-in-Chief at the Jules Stein Eye Clinic in Westwood, CA, did the honors. Helluva surgeon. Helluva guy. His diagnosis coming right up, but first, this:

Most of my visit was spent in the Waiting Room from Hell. Okay, not Hell, literally. I mean there wasn't real fire and brimstone. I didn't see any actual devils, demons, or RNC officials. So let's just say it's the waiting room for Hell's Waiting Room and the hell with it. (See where I went with that? Clever, huh?)

It certainly was crowded as Hell. Wherever you looked, there were oodles of vision-challenged geezers, all hoping to complete their appointment with their eye doc before it was time for their appointment with St. Peter.

My appointment was scheduled for Noon. Doc didn't see me until 3:30. That means my wait was almost two hours plus the… no, lessee, carry the six plus the square root of, um…it was almost a nine hour delay! Excuses proffered ranged from “unscheduled surgery” to traffic on the 405, to Eliot Spitzer's wandering wiener.

Earnest administrators and student doctors updated us with an occasional, bellowed announcement that appointments were running a “half-hour late.” Any patient above the age of two knows the phrase “half-hour late” is the medical euphemism for “three-hours late.” In fact, Quantum Physicists have studied this continuum disconnect in their time travel research for years, even attempting to apply it to Goldberg's Paradigm Shift Theory. (And by “have studied” I mean “will study.” Time travel has always been confusing, and by that I mean will always be confusing.)

An informal survey (no ball gowns) of those present in the Waiting Room from Hell produced these additional lateness causational data:

(1) Jules Stein's Clinic's outstanding reputation.
(2) The overall aging of America, and concomitant eye issues.
(3) Half the patients there thought they were in the urology lab.

Ladies and germs, did I mention these people were old? On average, their age ranged from one-foot-in-the-grave to both-feet-in-the-grave. I don't want to say the other patients were older than me, but they gave me the affectionate nickname: “Out of my way, punk-ass bastard!”

Adding to the confusion, many were blind as a bat. Others were blinder than bats and brought their own seeing-eye bats. All in all, though, they were a feisty lot (the patients, not the bats). And despite the delays, many hung in there upside down without complaint (the bats, not the patients).

Speaking of feisty--some patients even came strapped. Some were armed with red-tipped fighting canes. Others swung their oxygen bottles Bolo-style to clear their paths. Several arrived pushing up-armored walkers.

Most filled the time with a sport that combined Musical Chairs and Blind Man's Bluff. Winners won the right to sit in one of the few available chairs. A producer from OF-TV (formerly “The Old Fart Channel”) was on hand to develop a reality show hosted by Donny Osmond and the late Joan Rivers.

Oh, hey, look at that, almost finished here and I buried the lede-neglecting to pass along my good news. The good news is when I did see the talented Doc Schwartz, he was ecstatic about my Peepers. He was so pleased, in fact, he fired me as a patient. He said my eyesight was now testing at “20-25” in either eye. (Before the surgery, my right eye had tested at “20-What Eye Chart?”) He said to come see him in a year or so, gave me a pat on the ass and sent me on my way.

I was so delighted with my prognosis, that before leaving, I sucker-punched an eighty-something double-cataract victim and stole his Bolo. Good times, my friends, good times.

PESKY PRIZE # 3: Keith 'n' Patrick

Let’s unleash a big round of smoky applause for our first ever tie for The Pesky Prize, the World's Greatest Honor.

Our first selectee is soon-to-be late actor Patrick Swayze, denied the privacy of death by a Media that chose to thank him for entertaining us by outing his End Game. First the National Enquirer revealed that the Dirty Dancing star had less than six weeks to live due to Pancreatic Cancer. Then they followed up by snapping Swayze with a lit butt in his mouth. Then editorialists tut-tutted him for smoking when he already had Cancer. Yeah, a dying guy with a cancer stick in his mouth is a terrible role model and will no doubt turn lots of kids on to the nasty habit.

Our second smoking selectee is frequent winner of Rock ‘n’ roll Dead Pools, Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards, who in a recent interview with the London Daily Mail confirmed he still “smokes weed all the damn time.” More bad news for society, since this means handsome young guitarists hoping to emulate Keith’s matinee idol appearance will no doubt race out and pick up some chronic right away.

PESKY PRIZE #2: The Unfaithful Eight

Every time the phone rings, their pucker factor goes up to Eleven. When their accountants ask about a “couple of unusual withdrawals” in that special account they maintain, they stammer and sweat. When dark sedans circle or cop cars prowl outside their homes, their blood pressure spikes. When “Love Potion #9” plays on the radio, they change the station. When someone suggests “hanging is too good” for Client #9, they change the topic.

“They” are Emperor Club VIP Clients Numbers One through Eight.

The Unfaithful Eight, AKA Eight Men (not yet) Out(ted), are the first anonymous winners of the World’s Most Valuable Award, The Pesky Prize. The second ever Pesky Prize is awarded anonymously because the public-at-large and, more importantly, Pesky Gadabout, doesn’t know the recipient’s identity—yet. And it’s a sure bet they dearly want it to stay that way. But Pesky knows the Unfaithful Eight’s time will, er, come--faster than you can say “just leave it on the dresser.”

For them, it won’t be long before the fit hits the shan. Even as we speak, tabloid editors around the world are bellowing at bedraggled reporters to find fresh meat for the biggest story of sex, politics, and money 2008 has produced. Pesky suspects reporters might find them either enjoying one for the road or in church, thanking the Patron Saint of Sexual Misconduct for picking Eliot Spitzer, not them, to take one for the team. They’re left to wonder how much longer Spitzer will remain the Sole Sultan of Assignation, the Single Swallow of Capistrano, the Lone Arranger of Sexual Danger, the Solitary Subject of the Media’s Sizzling Spotlight.

Soon enough the Unfaithful Eight will have to convince their spouses to get dressed up and stand in front of hundreds of reporters, each thinking the same thought: “that’s the one he didn’t want to have sex with.” And is there a crueler sight than the crestfallen, heartbroken spouse, enticed by the man who betrayed her, standing bravely by his side?

And finally, Pesky wonders, could there ever be a better moment in live TV if, following this sad cheater’s waltz, in the instant after hubby finishes his Mea Culpa, wifey leans toward the mike and says: “For those of you who are interested, and that includes the scumbag standing next to me, I’ve just started doing the pool boy.”

The First Ever daily "PESKY PRIZE"

Starting today, and each weekday, Pesky Gadabout will honor a Media, Entertainment, or Political figure or event with its coveted Pesky Prize, an honor second only to the Pulitzer, the Academy Award, and the Medal of Freedom.


The very first ever Pesky Prize goes to none other than Tucker Carlson just canned as host of “Tucker,” the low rated MSNBC show, if that’s not redundant.

Now that “Tucker” is toast his replacement is David Gregory, the former Karl Rove dancer. Tucker, who comes across as the kind of kid you beat up in high school even after he stopped wearing a bow-tie wins today’s honor for a booking coup the day the cancellation was announced. He landed Nevada Bunny Ranch Brothel, owner Dennis Hof, to discuss Eliot Spitzer’s morality.

Huzzah, Tucker.

Spitzer? I hardly Knew Her!

No sane man as (book) smart as Spitzer would have done what he did without having serious psychological issues--IMO. Doesn't excuse it. Dude apparently needed counselling or Bobbitizing.

I’m no shrink, but I’d suggest putting him on “Suicide Watch.” It is a shame that he was so flawed as a human, considering the good he did as a prosecutor of corporate evildoers. I guess we as a nation are very fortunate that Ralph Nader was born without a penis.

For what its' worth, the Pope just added an eighth sin to his New Sin List: "Overpaying for Hookers."

We're here all week. Try the veal.

The Dems Are Back! (Sexwisedly-speaking)

Congratulations to the Democratic Party, which, after a decade-long period spent watching GOP sexual trailblazing, has just roared back to the top of the squirming, moaning, heavy-breathing, political sex-scandal slag heap Monday behind comeback kid, Eliot Spitzer.

The last time the Dems had a firm handle on sexual shenanigan leadership was when Monica Lewinski had a firm handle on Bill Clinton. Since then, it’s been all GOP all the time, spearheaded by the arrayed manhoods of Sens. Larry “Wide Stance” Craig, David “D.C. Madam” Vitter and Cong. Mark “Page from My Book” Foley.

Politician scandals have been supplemented by the woes of Right Wing pundits like Bill “Grab My Faloofah” O’Reilly, as well as those of Conservative Evangelical Preachers. The Dems have had no answer for the likes of Rev. Ted Haggard, who told his National Evangelical Assoc. to get flocked when he admitted he was “guilty of sexual immorality.”

Or Archbishop Earl Paulk, 80 years young, head of Georgia’s Cathedral of the Holy Spirit, who apparently was the real Daddy his brother’s kid. Obviously Lazarus was not the only dead thing that rose again.

The website "recovering Liberal.com" has a list of 55 or more alleged Tighty-Righty sexual offenders in its "GOP Pervert Hall of Shame," accuracy of which I cannot confirm.

In other news Monday, the Pope has just identified seven new “social" sins. The announcement was buried in coverage of the Spitzergate Scandal, but three of the newcomers—“polluting the environment,” "excessive wealth,” and “creating poverty”---drew the attention of the White House. Late Monday, President Bush announced he would veto all three sins.

No, Dammit, It's NOT My Book

Hi. I'm still John Corcoran and I'm still not illiterate, still not a karate expert, still not a “New Yorker” cartoonist, still not dead, still not a political consultant, and I especially still don't have a new book out. Several “John Corcoran's” are. Or have. Or do.

This may cause you to ask the musical question: "Who the hell cares?" Well, THIS John Corcoran does. THIS John Corcoran cares about you, the book buying public. And THIS John Corcoran especially cares about the financial well-being of his family, his friends, even his sworn enemies (And Lord knows there is some overlap there). THIS John Corcoran doesn't want people buying the other John Corcoran's book thinking the royaltie$ will go to me to spend on liquor and unguents. THIS John Corcoran wants book buyers to invest their money wisely instead, so when HIS book comes out (heh-heh-heh), you can buy more than one copy. THIS John Corcoran will stop referring to himself in the third person now.

I'm updating an earlier post because shortly after "Go Google Yourself" was published on this Blog, the other--okay ONE of the other--John Corcoran's came out with a book. Timing. I’ve got a gift for it.

The formerly illiterate John Corcoran’s new book is called “The Bridge to Literacy.” I didn’t write a single word of it. Some of my acquaintances know that. One emailed me to say, and I quote: “I'm guessing this is some other scribing schmuck and that your bridge blew up long ago.” Let me paraphrase Spencer Tracy, speaking of Kathryn Hepburn, and specifically of the “meat on her bones…” which he describd as “… cherce.” I don’t have a lot of friends, but the ones I have are cherce AND weird.

They know, as I do, that I am one of at least four John Corcoran’s I know of who are published authors, and that includes the one who wrote a book about 10,000 names for your boat. MY books are called "A Few Marbles Left" and "True Grits." My books sold well into the high several figures, and none contain boat names. I am currently working on a new book. When it gets peddled to publishers, the letter will begin: "If you LIKED my last book, you're gonna LOVE this one..." I’m hoping they’ll make the same misassumption some have and think I’m cranking books out faster than Steven King. Or maybe I’ll save time and just change my name to Steven King.

If that's illegal and I end up in prison, I'm requesting I be sent to the same hoosegow that houses Charlie Manson and Sirhan Sirhan. That’s Corcoran State Penitentiary. It's in Corcoran, CA, which is also the cotton capital of California. There is a Corcoran Gallery in Washington, DC, too. Years ago, my late father—although not late at the time--Lt. Col. John Corcoran, (USAF, Ret.) called The Corcoran Gallery about his membership status.

"Name please?" he was asked.

"John Corcoran," he replied.

"Would you spell that please?" he was asked.

"You’re kidding," Dad said.

Back when I lived where it rained, I owned a signature umbrella from the Corcoran Gallery Gift Shop. It was a good umbrella and I always prevailed whenever ownership disputes broke out because it said “Corcoran” on it.

I’ve never visited Corcoran State Penitentiary, either as visitor or guest. I live a good life because I was raisd well and I know a guy like me wouldn’t last long in the joint. I’d have to hope my cellmate preferred snappy repartee and movie trivia over that thing they do to pass time between conjugal visits.

Hillary Night Live! (Blame Canada)

When it comes down to picking the next President of the United States, some of the credit OR blame belongs to Canada. Okay, make that a Canadian-born comedy giant. Lorne Michaels, presiding over an increasingly irrelevant SNL, proved you could never count him or the show out--again. Saturday Night (live), he played a political trump card by putting Hillary on the show, a couple of days before her critical make or break primaries. It was a huge story by Sunday morning.



Senator Clinton wasn’t just ON “Saturday Night Live”, but appeared during the Cold Open, the part everyone watches before later deciding “this show sucks” and going to bed. If that wasn’t a de facto endorsement, those who stuck around saw a Robert Smigel TV Funhouse bit that included a cartoon Michelle Obama puking and the Senator hornswaggling Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton to keep them out of sight. (Sen. Obama appeared four months ago)

Michaels’ coup raced him past would-be Kingmaker Matt Drudge as comedy political influence. Drudge, who has been too busy endangering British royals recently to unleash another Hillary broadside didn’t even post another unflattering picture of Hillary Sunday morning, and ignored the SNL appearance altogether. (My website checks were done between 9-10 AM PST, Sunday).
Drudge ran a Politico.com link and to a day-old LA Times analysis. At that time, the LATimes website didn’t show the appearance, but the NYTimes did, with a photo.)

Hillary’s appearance was billboarded on CNN.com and was the lede story on HuffingtonPost.com complete with a photo of Hillary and Amy Poehler—who’d played her in a sketch—embracing. It was second lede on Crooksandliars.com.

MSNBC.com had the story, but not prominently, and next to a picture of Senator Obama, below the headline “Obama Spends heavily to Seek Knockout Blow.” Their lede was Mahmoud Amadinajad’s visit to Iraq, featuring a picture of the Iranian head honcho clasping hands with an Iraqi official and Ned Beatty. Okay, it looked like Ned Beatty.

To get a “Fair and Balanced” (heh-heh-heh) approach, I checked out Foxnews.com, where the top headline was “Don’t Give Up, Huck.” This was followed by “Russians Pick Putin’s Successor” and “Report: Women are Superior Liars.” (I’m NOT making that up. With FOX, you never have to invent the absurdities.) The Right must be worried about Hillary if Drudge ignores her and Fox points out you can’t trust no women no how, anyway. Incidentally, Fox’s headlines were across from a photo of a hotttie wearing an “I survived Roe v. Wade” t-shirt, an ad for—you’ll never guess—a conservative T-shirt company.

My Fair and Balanced approach requires me to report that by 10AM, the Foxies had their own account of Hillary’s appearance on SNL, noting the candidate is doing “whatever it takes” to make a “late comeback.” Their slow response, one suspects, was due to an inability to obtain earlier White House approval for the story.

Hillary’s pantsuit doesn’t contain the deep pockets that come with Obama’s wardrobe, but she is taking advantage of free TV. In addition to SNL, she did a cameo on Letterman last week, and will be on “The Daily Show” today, where Jon Stewart will undoubtedly aim not only t he first, but all his questions to her.