On August 17th, 1998, our president, William Jefferson Clinton, finally caved in to a partisan political investigation into his personal conduct, and admitted that there had been an "innapropriate" "relationship" between himself and an intern, one Monica Lewinsky. This angered me. It angered me for two reasons: firstly, because he caved in to one of the world's rottenest individuals, Kenneth Starr, who was very clearly intent on making partisan trouble at any goddamned cost; secondly, because the bastard didn't actually admit having sex of any kind with the chippie. (Not that it actuallty mattered to the Special Prosecutor, whom, the record shows, was gonna get 'im one way or another.)
Part of me wanted him to admit he did naughty things with this little tart; part of me wanted him to say what I've always thought was the case, that she was the sexual agressor, and the only reason he didn't wipe her away was that, at the time, he was on the phone with Alphonse D'Amato, and, well, you know he'd never have heard the end of it...
Another part of me wanted him to say something else, deny, point out for all to see the vast Right Wing Conspiracy-- and, yes, there was in fact a vast Right Wing Conspiracy, and the fact that it was so wholly visable is a grand testimonial to the stupidity of the Right Wing. (This has nothing to do with any allegaince to the president; this has to do with my contempt for the smug mendacity of right wing types that happily turned off their logic circuits and claimed that from Whitewater to "Travelgate" to finding out where the President's schlong had been was a reasonable course for an investigation to take.) But he did none of those things. He simply and clearly paved the way for his own impeachment on the grounds that, when grilled about the most potentially embarrassing details of what had already been ingrained in the public mind as a sleazy affair on the grounds of the Unsolicited Testimonials of Right Wing Nut Jobs , he did not, immediately, tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him Newt.
What I didn't see, and what I think he saw, was that he had strung the thing out long enough that everyone was sick of hearing about it, sick of the Republicans, sick of the speculation, and that when and if it came to an impeachment trial the syccophants in the Senate would fold, knowing they weren't holding the highest cards.
But that morning, driving in to work, listening to the re-cap on NPR, I tell ya, man, I was just plain pissed at the Commander In Chief. I just wanted to smack the son of a bitch.
PS: I was right about some things: the Right has never forgiven Clinton for his indiscretions, and even today pundits of the Republican Patriacrhy-- er, Party, although I still feel odd calling it that-- blame his lewd acts for the downfall of modern civilisation. Ken Starr has gone on to do nearly nothing, which is to say he's working in college administration, which is to say he still doesn't know how soon to empty the trash. Bill Bennett has grown so weary of his shallow platitudes and re-treaded homilies that he's taken to soaking his sorrows in 36-hour-long losing video poker binges, a truer sign of deep-set depravity than any fathomable drug habit. Hillary Clinton, in her ever-ambitious yet snail-like pusuit of power, has let out word that she will publish yet another book, claiming to tell, yet again, how terribly dissapointed she is in her husband's past behavior. Monica Lewinsky has hosted a TV "reality" show, which, as these things go, is hardly reality and barely TV, and, consequently has garnered terrific ratings. Tom Brokaw continues to immitate Mike Myers' "Dr. Evil" character, in defiance of anyone in the media calling him out. And Washington is still populated by G. Gordon Liddy wanna-be's who don't know their asses from opinion polls (and that's so funny on so many levels that, ironically, it isn't funny). It's all there. You just have to read close.