Given that I spend the majority of my day griping, bitching, and railing against the putrid stench of humanity’s mediocrity, the importance of the following statement cannot be minimized — There is no more offensive and depressing sight than watching Bill Clinton apologize for his affair with Monica Lewinsky. Not only was Clinton forced to go on a “tour of apology” during the final two years of his presidency, but he continues to answer questions, and act contrite, about that “shameful” and “sinful” sexual escapade. Needless to say, I am in no way offended by what he did — in fact, I applaud his actions, hence the title of this essay — and I know deep down Clinton would love to explode in a self-righteous rage of gloating and frat-boy braggadocio. While biting his lip, getting misty eyed, and politely talking about counseling with professional and priest alike, I can see the intellectual within; resenting every waking second of his forced march through a nation that seems to tolerate everything except the failure to grovel and beg for mercy. Given that Clinton is arguably the most intelligent and well-read President since Thomas Jefferson, his brain — superior to 99% of the American public, if you want to keep score — is no doubt churning with elitist scorn for a bumbling, inept populace and its obsession with bedroom antics. No, my friends, Clinton isn’t sorry; not for getting his dick sucked, nor for lying under oath about it. His only regret is that he didn’t use the unlimited power of his office to get even more pussy, and I for one support him in his despair.
Watching the former President hit the talk show circuit in support of his autobiography is truly sick, and we as a nation are to blame. Here is a man who spent eight years in the White House, has a mind like few other public servants in American history, and can discuss just about anything related to public policy, and yet we’d rather hear about the blowjob. Better yet, we’d rather hear him whimper and whine about it. We’d rather hear blowhards ramble on about “the people’s house,” or “restoring honor and dignity to the White House,” as if sex took away the power and grandeur of America’s most historic residence. My God, he came in the Oval Office! On the taxpayer’s dime! Let it be said: I not only applaud his decision to use some dimwitted heifer for a quickie, but I advocate, without a trace of sarcasm, supplying each and every President with a stable of chicks; all at our expense. Remember kids, he can’t wander over to a Beltway bar, or flip through a phone book for some cheap escort. Being the most heavily guarded man on planet earth, he must rely on what comes to him, which is usually no more than a pathetic intern or frumpy secretary. I can’t imagine that Clinton genuinely prefers trailer trash; I can only conclude that these women are the only ones who are so obvious in their desires. Moreover, they are the only ones who pass within Clinton’s reach, and all the beautiful women in Washington are already sucking cocks for Congressional favors, or are locked/tied down at night in John Ashcroft’s basement.
Clinton needs some hot, young, orally-fixated chicks; the sort of women who will keep his mind sharp and perspective fresh. History is clear on this matter. Nixon never got laid and he was a raging asshole who shit on the Constitution. Reagan and Bush(s) were/are boring, faithful types, so they channel their energy into ruining the country [Ed Note: Though it is known that George Senior had an affair. I mean, look at Babs]. Clinton made some mistakes, sure, but all can be traced to his frustrating search for prime pussy. When it failed to show up, he signed the Welfare Reform bill. When he’d gone months without a college girl riding him like Smarty Jones, he uttered foolish crap like, “The era of big government is over.” And when his nutsack stayed frustratingly dry, he fired Jocelyn Elders, the single greatest Surgeon General in the history of the republic. Deny the man a much-needed threesome with some Miss America contestants, and he’ll give up on gays in the military or health care. There are only three times during the Clinton years when I knew he was pounding ass, or at least letting a healthy rack smack him in the face — the appointments of Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Stephen Breyer to the Supreme Court, and standing firm on the attempted government shutdown by Newt Gingrich. Check the White House log; I guarantee within hours of those decisions, Bill was conveniently unaccounted for.
As an honest liberal, I will admit that Clinton was far from the perfect President. He often failed, and he gave in too quickly to the forces that tried to bring him down — except for impeachment. By pulling out his own Jumbo (with a debt of gratitude to the first President to use his cock to make a point, the late Lyndon Baines Johnson), Clinton saved the Constitution, beat back the forces of reaction and crypto-fascism, and made us all proud again to be Americans. But he never, ever should have apologized for anything. Some have said that his unending apologies saved his Presidency, but I hold out in the belief that had he told the Republican conspiracy machine to “get fucked,” the applause would have been deafening. Well, at least in my house. After all, a President’s bedroom behavior reveals absolutely nothing about the man as a leader, unless of course you believe Jimmy Carter was the epitome of Presidential effectiveness. LBJ, Kennedy, Eisenhower, and FDR all fucked around like horny teenagers, and few would ever consider consigning such men to the ash heap of history. Or take America’s most brilliant sage, Alexander Hamilton, a man who not only drafted the blueprint for the America we now know, but humped just about everything that wasn’t nailed down. Is he any less of a giant?
All I ask is that we grant Clinton the same respect. Disagree with his policies (and I do), but cut the crap regarding any alleged “immorality.” The man, above all, was always honest with himself. That makes him as moral as they come. His lies are our lies, because we’re too dumb, simpleminded, and prudish to accept that brilliance requires constant feeding, and one cannot (and should not) divorce the penis from the brain. And please, no psychoanalysis. Sex is good; sex is right. And outside of forcible rape, everything is on the table. But even that has its exceptions. There’s a legend that LBJ once slipped into an aide’s bed and cried, “Move over, this is your President.” Apocryphal, perhaps, but utterly believable. More importantly, it addresses a larger issue: If the President comes a-callin’, get busy. He has a country to run.