Down the Rabbit Hole: "Sex Inside The Beltway"

[Warph]

If they didn't want Washington to be a hotbed of sexual activity, they shouldn't have named it after the guy who fathered the entire country.

Sex has served as the you-don't-want-to-know-where-it's-been coin of the realm in American politics, long before the Clintons and Spitzers came along.  Thomas Jefferson is said to have sired a child by one of his slaves, and, like I said, I wouldn't be surprised if the original George W. left a set of those wooden teeth on the wrong nightstand now and then.

Let's face it, there's constant groping going on in our nation's capital even when George Bush isn't trying to find the right word.

Everyone criticized Monica Lewinsky for being so indiscreet about having sex with the President, but come on..... What's the point of boinking the President if you can't tell everyone about it?  I mean, there've only been 43 of those penises and you had one lodged in your noggin, Monica. Why not take out an ad in the trades?

Now, I don't believe there's any danger of a sex scandal with our current administration.  President Bush not only appears to be deeply in love with his wife, he thinks "fetish" is something you crumble on top of a Greek salad.  And as for Dick Cheney, well, his team of doctors has cautioned him to not even look at a Sears bra ad, much less have sex.

More disturbing than the sex scandals that emanate from Washington, DC, is the realization that they are merely the tip of the "vice-berg." The elective process in our nation is like a recipe for kink:  Take some jagoff in a clip-on tie who, under any other circumstances, couldn't get laid if his penis had its own vagina; send him far away from his shopping-trophy wife for months at a time; stir in a little power and influence, and fold it all into a town that has more over-used escorts than a Budget rent-a-car lot.  Add to that thousands of wide-eyed young acolytes flooding into the Below-the-Beltway each year, giving off a heady fer-a-moan brew of ambition and naivete that an aging political billy goat can smell a mile away.  Man, Washington is like Club Med for doughy, old, unattractive white guys.  Remember the movie "Cocoon?"  The crew from "Cocoon" would be considered the Rat Pack in DC.  You think I'm exaggerating the way it works down there, people?   I don't think so.   Let's put it this way: Gov. Eliot Spitzer of NY was getting laid.  OK?  E'nuff said.

Henry Kissinger once said, "Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac." He was right because no one got more primo skirt than Hank Kissinger in the 70's, and this guy looked like a troll doll hanging from the rearview mirror of a Volkswagen Beetle.

What trips up politicians is never the actual sex itself. We know they have sex.  I guess we expect them to have sex.  What we hate is the arrogance that accompanies the inevitable exposure of the sex as unfailingly as seagulls trailing chum.  Somehow, Mr. Smith-Comes-On-Washington starts to assume that the American public is just as gullible as the 20-year-old chick that he's been doing it with on his pre-Jefferson antique desk on alternate Wednesday evenings for the last two years.  Full of pry-appic swagger, when the rumors of hanky-panky start percolating, he runs his hand through his blow-dried John Edwards helmet-cut coif, then maybe he sprays a shot of Binaca in his mouth, shoots his cuffs, and goes in front of the news cameras and denies everything.  Practically insists that Wolf Blitzer hook his testicals up to a polygraph.  And he just keeps on smiling that "Screw you, you can't touch me, I'm bulletproof cause I got my constituents a plow museum built last year" grin.  Come on, give us more credit than that.  We know you're screwing around. Just cop to it.  We read you like the top line of an eye chart.


We know now why Senator Byrd keeps going to work everyday.  Because of the very good possibility that one day soon, he's gonna get lucky with some hot, young 80-year-old.  I was watching C-Span the other night and their she was....  eighty if she was a day.  Everytime I see that footage of her standing there on stage next to Sen. Byrd in her strapless, fur-trimmed, hey-baby-give-it-up-you're-in-your-mid-fifties Escad  frock, smiling that lobotomized, open-mouth smile, all the while clapping her mitts together like she's a trained seal cleaning erasers, just so thrilled to be part of the action that all the naysayers once told her was way out of her league, well, all I can think is, "Wow, she's not even aware of what an incredible dupe she's being played for.  Old Bobby's finally going to score.    .....Warph

[pam]

so whats your point?

[Warph]

Is it important that I have a Point, Pam

[pam]

  I guess not lol