Chapter 30
I've just finished watching the Lewinsky interview. My gut's still aching from all the laughter that filled me. Life in the late nineties - you've gotta love it! I mean, who really gives two flicks of a fuck about the starving in Sudan when you can hear about one of the most powerful men in the world shoving a cigar up some intern's cunt in the Oval Office? "Was he aroused?" You bet he was! Only thing that shits me is they didn't tell us whether the bastard smoked the thing after it had dried out.
I've always maintained that the perfume of pussy and nicotine on your fingers is one of the most glorious scents on this earth. Why not combine them into one? American capitalism shows us the way once again.
What's more is that, after a decade of Rodney King riots, OJ's orgy, the Waco free-for-all and other media mayhems, the bastard gets off! All puns intended. It's the perfect finale to this post-modern fuck up. "No, I did not have sex with that woman," he tells us. Do we believe him? No more than we'd believe the Pope if he said there's never been a butt-munching bishop in the history of the Church. So what happens? Old Willie's dick goes in the same direction as his electoral popularity - ever upwards. Free Willie's Willie.
NB - merchandising idea No. 7: matching Monica and Bill Barbie dolls, complete with cigar and stained blue dress. To be followed by interchangeable interns and the pissed-off Paula Jones doll. And, as the millennium present to top it all off, Hysterical Hillary with the punching right fist. Pull its chord and listen to it sing a pitch-perfect "Stand By Your Man."
God damn it - the world is one fucked up place to be. And I sure am proud to be a part of it!