Like it or not, the House of Representatives will be getting a report from Ken Starr before the November elections. Unless, of course, Starr has a few more payments to make on the Porsche. You never can tell about these things.
But after President Clinton testifies next weekend, there's no one left to bug. All Starr needs to do is tell his grand jury to indict whoever he sees fit, write up his report and send it along to the proper authorities. In this case, some friendly Republicans over at the Capitol.
Lots of folks have been encouraging Clinton to "bare his soul". That seems to be dubious advice. It seems to me baring his soul is what got him in trouble in the first place. But seriously, folks, when nice guys like Orrin Hatch quit hooting for impeachment, perhaps Clinton ought to come clean. Whatever that means.
I can hear the speech now.
"Well, back in sixth grade there was a girl named Priscilla Thompkins. Priscilla had the cutest little pigtails. I liked to pull them all the time. Once I sat behind her and dipped one of her pigtails in my inkwell. She screamed, but I told Mrs. Cremins the pigtail just fell in all by itself. She believed me and sent Priscilla to the office.
"After that, Priscilla's grades fell off. She went from the top of the class to just barely graduating to junior high. And once she got there, she began mixing with the wrong crowd, wearing blue jeans to school and smoking on her walk home. She dropped out of school after getting pregnant in the ninth grade.
"Priscilla married Jim Ed Stuebens the summer after she dropped out, even though it was Pete Stocker who knocked her up. Jim Ed was a real nice guy, a sweetheart, but he drank way too much and once night he rolled his Chevy into a culvert and died.
"So there was Priscilla, a widow at sixteen with a toddler in tow. Jim Ed's folks weren't set for cash, really, so she moved back in with her folks. Her dad, though, was a real peckerwood. Like Jim Ed, he often had himself a bit too much to drink, and when that happened he'd come home and take it out on Priscilla's mom. One night, though, he mistook Priscilla for her mom and whacked her good, breaking her nose and ending any real chance she had for getting another husband.
"Priscilla moved out of the house and took a job at a chicken farm sweeping out the buildings. She stayed there for a long time, until Tyson, encouraged by a few tax incentives I offered in my capacity as governor, moved in and put her company out of business. By then her son had already managed to kill himself while huffing hair spray. So she was all alone in the world. No options in sight, she went on the welfare.
"She wasn't proud of it, but she took the checks and survived, taking a small apartment on the outskirts of Little Rock. There she stayed, getting by until I signed the welfare reform bill. As a long-time dependent, her days were numbered, and last month her number came up. No more money. Priscilla considered moving to another state to start again, but she knew that the nationwide computer system would catch up to her eventually, and she was tired of running. So just two days ago, Priscilla sunk her life savings into a Colt .45 and six bullets. She only needed one.
"I'd like to apologize to Priscilla right now. If I hadn't dipped her pigtail in the ink, or offered mega agriconglomerates like Tyson huge tax breaks or signed the welfare reform bill, she might be alive today. But she's not. And it's my fault. Oh, I know, I can't be convicted of anything here, but I'm not proud of how I acted. I only hope the American people may forgive me."
And as I sit there, tears flowing from my eyes, I realize that Senator Hatch is right. Clinton's confession immediately lifts the cloud that for too long has been floating over our nation. A little song can be heard chiming in the back of my head.
I can see clearly now that the rain has gone. It's gonna be a bright, sun-shiney day.
Gonna be a bright (bright), sun-shiney day.
As soon as Jane's Addiction gets on the Freedom Rock compilation, Jon Worley plans on laying down his bread.