Monica Lewinsky is a former White House intern
by Matt Worley

Maybe I've been reading the newspapers a little bit more than the regular person, but can someone explain something before I put my head down and charge horn first into this week's column? Why does every news story about Monica remind us that she's a former White House Intern? Doesn't everyone know this already? Is there another group coming out of Biosphere seclusion? And why the hell can't you get cable in Biospheres? These are the kinds of questions I'd ask if I was on the grand jury. Which could explain a few things, but not why we're still talking about the stupidest story of the decade. To wit:

We all knew it was going to happen someday. Some kind of semi-resolution to the saga known as Monica-gate. Or Trousersnipe. Or Zippermania. The first part came into place this week as our young heroine firmly planted her knees in front of the grand jury, saying, "Please don't send my mom to jail, I'll give you what you want!"

It is the oldest rule in the book. If loyalty binds two people, offer up the highest loyalty as a sacrifice. And Monica's mom was that big juicy carrot. The big crunch as Lewinsky bit down wasn't heard around the world, but the rumors of this sight were. Soon after testimony ended, the leaks began. Okay. Let me get this straight. We don't want any misinformation about the special prosecutor, but misinformation about the actual case, well, that's totally okay.

I just don't get any of this. And this has nothing to do with my penchant for blow jobs. This has to do with government. Is the congress supposed to be creating law and policy, or are they supposed to be spying on all their little Capitol Hill friends? The whole thing reminds me of high school when a guy in our class got caught masturbating in the bathroom. And, for some reason, no one understood why.

Maybe I should get back on track here. Monica. Sexual promiscuity of the rich and famous. And the people who want to be rich and famous. And the rest of us. So here's my thing:

Look over at the nearest guy to where you are sitting. He's had a blow job. He's received a hummer. And chances are he's had his head vice clamped by the exuberant legs of a young lady. Or just a lady. The woman over to your right. She's been down the road. Taken the train. Run the gamut.

These aren't new things to anyone. The fact that there is a little bit of sexual give and take in government makes sense to me. Everyone gets paid off, but almost everyone gets off too. It's a fact, not a rumor. Or out of the ordinary. Does this make it right? Sure it does. Otherwise, are the rest of us criminals for doing these things? Do I want my sex life investigated? Only if there's a lot of money in it for me. I suspect the rest of us are in the same frame of mind about this.

See, I've known for years that most of the elected officials in this country are normal people. Which means they have huge failings, even if most of them can give a pretty good speech. Like the rest of us, they've got great assets and monumental deficits in their character. No one is perfect. No one is even close.

We, as a country, are spending millions of dollars to find out if the Prez lied about sex. Instead of trying to fix problems in this country, we are making a couple hundred people very rich. And none of these people were hurting in the first place. And no matter how many names we call Kenneth Starr, we sure ain't gonna call him poor. He did, just in the last week or so, take permanent leave (without pay) from his regular day job. He's been investigating the Prez for four years or so. I think he figured out that once this case is over, he's done with being a lawyer. And it ain't gonna hurt his portfolio one bit.

I really didn't want to talk about this again. I thought I'd said enough. So I'm gonna sum up: Monica Lewinsky is a groupie. The Prez is a politician. Linda Tripp is a scary looking bitch. Kenneth Starr is a lawyer.

Groupies are groupies. Scary looking bitches are scary looking bitches. Politicians are politicians. Lawyers are assholes. Why is any of this unusual? Because we've made it so. We've made this the defining portrait of a president: An overweight guy eating french fries while interns bump their heads on the underside of his desk. And if he's done anything else in the last six years, I don't remember what they might have been. Neither will the rest of us because we can't get past the oaf, the intern and the scary looking bitch.

And then there's the lawyer sticking his nose in everyone's nook and cranny--which was the whole problem in the first place, right?

Fuck this fucking game. I'm gonna go crawl under my rock again.

Matt Worley once again had the answers to the universe right in front of his eyes only to realize he'd forgotten to bring a pen.

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