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 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.