What’s a Nice Jewish Boy.......

©2008 by Leezard

.......Doing in a mess like this? Moreover, what’s a nice Jewish governor doing in a high priced brothel? More moreover, what the hell kind of sex is worth more than $4,000? Didn’t Governor Spitzer ever listen to the Beatles (“Money Can’t Buy Me Love…….” Dumdeedumdee DUMB!!!)?

Eliot, Eliot, what the hell were you thinking? Were you thinking, “It’s okay; Thomas Jefferson was shtooping his slaves?” Or, “It’s okay, JFK did Marilyn Monroe?” Or, “It’s okay, Bill Clinton got away with ‘I did not have sex with that woman (Thereby causing a huge national debate over what is and what isn’t SEX)?’”



As Bill Clinton learned the hard way (Ouch, no pun intended. Okay, pun intended), these are different times. In Thomas Jefferson’s day, everyone was shtooping their slaves. In JFK’s day, the adoring media protected Sir Camelot. Today, any politician is meat for the media machine and, I think, justifiably so.

Here’s a guy who was “Mr. Clean,” the hard-assed prosecutor who built his reputation on the legal carcasses of labor racketeers and, irony of ironies, prostitution rings. ( Eliot, Eliot!!!???) In these media intense times,
didn’t he think that someone
would either leak (ouch again) his involvement or that some enterprising journalist would come upon (double ouch!!) the story?

I’ve never thought that prostitution should be illegal but that’s another post. If Eliot Spitzer is guilty of anything, it’s terminal stupidity. He went – in a New York minute – from respected governor of a big blue state to stand-up fodder. I suppose I should thank him for giving me something that is such an easy target or, I suppose I should just feel sorry for him. I can do neither. I can only sit here and shake my head and think, “Eliot, ELIOT, where did you buy that idiot pill? I sure hope you didn't pay $4,000 for it.

Finally, with thanks to my friend Mary in New York, I close with Mrs. Spitzer’s published daily schedule yesterday.

6AM Get up. Get Elliot off the couch.
6:30 AM Whup Elliot
7:00 AM Get kids off to school. Tell Elliot to fix his own damn breakfast.
7:30 AM Get dressed. Tell Elliott to find his own damn socks.
8:00 AM Whup Elliot
8:30 AM Call divorce attorneys
9:00 AM Call mom. Discuss ways to make Elliot miserable
10:00 AM Call mother in law. Agree with her that Eliot's a shmuck
11:00 AM Call rabbi. Agree with him that Elliot's a shmuck.
12:00 AM Get ready to go to press conference
1:00 PM Go to press conference
2:00 PM Stand next to shmuck at press conference
3:00 PM Meet with Attorneys
5:00 PM Help kids with homework. Tell Elliot to get lost.
6:00 PM Fix dinner for kids, not Elliot
7:00 PM Get kids ready for bed
8:00 PM Put kids in bed
8:30 PM Whup Elliot.
11:00 PM Go to bed. Alone.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Woodstock, Sort Of.......

Image
©2009 by LeeZard Millions of people will tell you they were at Woodstock in 1969. Only about half-a-million are telling the truth. I am one of them. I was a young (22) Washington, D.C.-based correspondent for a fledgling radio network operated by Metromedia. At the time, Metromedia was the single largest owner of non-network (ABC, CBS & NBC) affiliated radio and TV stations in the country. In those days, by the way, the FCC allowed only a maximum ownership of seven AMs, seven FMs and seven TV stations by a single company. Everyone had heard of this Rock & Roll festival near the small town of Bethel in upstate New York but nobody was prepared for the historic event it would become. On Friday August 15, 1969 I flew to New York City to attend a friend’s Saturday night wedding. At about 6 a.m. Saturday morning the phone rang at my parents’ house (where I was staying). It was my boss in D.C. “It’s a disaster up at that Rock thing in New York – 20-mile long traffic jams; nobody can g...
Read more

BRANDO

Image
©2011 by LeeZard Brando the Wonder Dog died peacefully in my arms at 10:35 PM (PST) on  November 25th, 2011. He was 12-years old. The last words he heard were, “I love you, Brando.” Brando died from an overdose of barbiturates administered by a critical care veterinarian after he was diagnosed with cancer in his shoulder that had spread to his lungs. His chest cavity was filled with blood and fluid; he was slowly suffocating. I had no choice but to put him down. Nonetheless, it was a difficult and wrenching decision.     I wanted to get that part out of the way off the top because I don’t want this to be a maudlin obituary. This is the story of a great and loyal German Shepherd, a dignified and grand old man who lived to love and play. He got plenty of both in the all too brief time we had with him. Brando chose me for adoption in June, 2007, a few months before his eighth birthday. I was looking for a German Shepherd; I knew them to be smart, loyal and protecti...
Read more

Michael Jackson Ain't All That

Image
©2009 by LeeZard LeeZard is already burned out on the Michael Jackson brouhaha. I’m sorry, boys & girls but Michael Jackson isn’t (wasn’t) Elvis. He wasn’t The Beatles or Frank Sinatra. Let’s put aside, for the moment, Jackson’s penchant for diddling little boys, the apparent denial of his Blackness and whatever other “foibles” soiled his fable. As an icon, he doesn’t measure up to the “A” list above. Why? Is Leezard just being contrary? I don’t think so. While MJ fans argue that his record sales are the equal to those of the Beatles and Elvis, the “official” count shows otherwise – by at least a quarter-of-a-million (that will certainly change as MJ sales have skyrocketed since his death). But, anyone can diddle with numbers (much better than diddling with little boys!). Let’s take two examples from my generation and look at the bigger picture, starting with The King (MJ was merely “The King of Pop”). Elvis changed everything. It’s not out of reach to say he jump-started the Rock ...
Read more