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I’ve Grown Accustomed to His Face
(Or “An Endless Series of Crude Sexual Humor Bits about President Clinton Masquerading as a Meaningful Article.”)

By Wil Forbis
I can't remember whether it was the third or fourth White House farewell ceremony that President Clinton held for himself this past month where I realized I was going to miss the guy. And I have to tell you, it was a strange sensation. Granted, I vigorously defended him during the Impeachment saga (I've always believed in the biblical adage "Don't judge a man till you walked a mile in his shoes, and have every intention of delaying judgment on Clinton until I've had a chance to be felated by a female intern and stick a cigar in her. And I may need to repeat the experience several hundred times before I'm willing to pass sentence… I'm just that dedicated to fairness!)… Anyway, as I was saying, I defended him during the Impeachment, but I'm also the guy who wrote an article suggesting he be punished by having hot wax poured onto his flesh and cigars put out on his nipples. And who can forget my piece insinuating that he practiced bestiality? Or my serious ponderences about Clinton's effect on the morality of our youth? Or my allegations that his feminist credentials left something to be desired. (Damn, I got a lot of mileage out of the guy. It seems almost fitting that the man who was the muse for so many Acid Logic columns be given an appropriate A.L. send-off.)

Annnnnywaaaay… getting to my point here - I'm going to miss the guy, if only for the fact that the last eight years have been one hell of a comical, soap opera-ish, political joyride the likes of which I will surely never see again. I have to thank Clinton for the endless stream of material he provided to comedians and late night talk show hosts everywhere. (Note that "late night talk show hosts" are in a different category than "comedians." You can thank Craig Kilborne for that one). I have to thank him for making my sexual predilections seem less weird by comparison. And I have to thank him for making larger sized women feel more desirable and able to talk about their sexual escapades, sometimes to a roomful of stodgy old Senators who were authoring condemnations of her behavior with one hand and reaching for the Kleenex with the other. If nothing else Clinton should be remembered for bringing oral sex out of the bedroom and putting it right where I've always said it belongs: on National Television! (I guess he also did some stuff for blacks and gays but that's already fading from memory.)

You might be saying, "Gee Wil, don't take it so hard. After all, we've got this Bush guy in office and he seems kind of like a wacky character dontchathink?" Well, no, unless "wacky" has ceased to mean, "entertaining in a clown-like and comical way" and now has a definition along the lines of "lacking in zest and having an I.Q. measured with negative integers." It was just two weeks ago I was struggling to stay awake though Bush's inaugural address, and I gotta tell you; a little wackiness wouldn't have hurt. Instead, I watched a man stumble through verse after forgettable verse of pre-approved rhetoric with the emotive abilities of a discarded Fraggle Rock puppet. To make matters worse, I then realized that I wasn't watching Bush's televised speech at all, but rather was staring into my microwave at a piece of boiled cabbage I'd drunkenly placed there the night before. Bush junior's limp delivery makes his pop look like the love child of Richard Simmons and Milton Berl. (Which is, of course, impossible since we all know that role is taken by Pauly Shore.)

Of course, as we all keep hearing, Bush is going to "restore dignity to the White House." But goddamit, I don't want a White House with dignity; I want a White House with blowjobs, and lots of them! (Unless we're talking about President Lincoln's White House… sheeeyehhh…) I keep looking for some weak link in Bush's do-gooder façade and the best I can come up with is cocaine addiction. (BTW, Max Burbank wasn't willing to stoop this low for a laugh, but doesn't it seem ironic that it's someone with the name "Bush" who's promising to take sex out of the Oval Office? Or isn't it humorous that Clinton is sandwiched between two Bushes? (Right where he'd like to be.) And hey, isn't it funny how Clinton "came" into office after Bush?… okay, maybe I'm reaching with the last two but you gotta admit that first one was pretty good.)

GODDAMIT I wish I could get through a paragraph without interrupting myself with these parenthesized tangential tidbits. I was trying to make a serious point here… what was it now? Oh yeah, the faint glimmer of hope that the pressure of the presidency will drive Bush back to his nights of China White and one day Dick Cheney will walk into the Oval Office to be greeted by George doing his best imitation of Pacino in that final scene from "Scarface" where he's got a mountain of coke in front of him and a three foot long straw. And Bush'll say "Hey, Dickey, join me for a snoot? You're gonna have a heart attack sooner or later, might as well go out in style."

Yeah, that'd be swell, but it ain't gonna happen. In a Clinton White House there was at least a chance of seeing the entire office of the presidency go down the drain (or go down on the drain… okay, I swear that's my last one) in a drug snorting orgy right out of "Beyond The Valley of the Dolls" ("It's my press conference and it freaks me out") but it won't happen on George's watch. And it's a damn shame I say. So to sum it up and bring an end to this malformed frat house comedy skit disguised as a column, I'd like to sing a little song I wrote about Bill Clinton, sung to the tune of "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face" from the classic musical, "My Fair Lady."

I've grown accustomed to his face…
His red and funny looking nose…
I've grown accustomed to his chin…
It looks like a lot like Jay Leno's…
His Ups, His Pouts…
His Downs, His Pouts…
Are second nature to ……..

Ahh, fuggetaboutit - you uncultured heathens probably don't even know the song anyway.

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Wil Forbis is a well known international playboy who lives a fast paced life attending chic parties, performing feats of derring-do and making love to the world's most beautiful women. Together with his partner, Scrotum-Boy, he is making the world safe for democracy. Email -

Visit Wil's web log, The Wil Forbis Blog, and receive complete enlightenment.