One of the most discussed areas of the Clinton debacle has been the concern of what the effects of a world leader caught in lie will be on our children. Henry Hyde recently trotted out a letter from a wee lad that essentially stated, "If Clinton can lie, why canít I?" While at the time I was mocking of Hydeís assertions that the Presidentís faults would lead to a lost modern generation, I became concerned a few weeks later when my nephew, Spike, came to visit. A hearty lad at the age of eight, he raised some legitimate points about the effects of Clintonís indiscretions on the whole of our youth.
"Uncle Wil" he bleated on the first morning of his stay, awaking me from my methadone induced bliss, "Iíve got a question for ya."
"Whatís the matter, Spike?" I queried. "Are you already tired of playing with my knife collection?"
"Thatís boring, Uncle Wil," he festooned. "I want to talk politics."
"Politics!" I yelped. "Thatís hardly suitable for a young man of your age. Why donít you go look at some online pornography?"
"I do that at school all the time, Uncle Wil. I came to visit you to do different stuff. Now answer my question!"
"Well, all right youngster," I conceded. "I suppose itís futile to try and keep you innocent in this day and age. Pass me a cigarette and fire away.
"Sure thing," Spike said while handing me a Clove from our previous nightís shoplifting binge. "What I want to know is this: Whatís all the fuss about President Clinton?"
"President who?" I innocently queried. "Iím afraid Iím not familiar with whom youíre talking about. Is he one of your generationís new-fangled rap musicians? Like Master P?"
"Cut the bologna, Uncle Wil," Spike said. "You know exactly what Iím talking about. Itís in all the papers."
"Well, I never really had much call to learn to read Spike," I said, continuing my plea of naivetť. "In my day there wasnít much use for it what with we could get a good job raising dinosaurs and all."
"Uncle Willlll!" Spike bellowed, "If you donít tell the truth Iím going to start eating Legos again!!"
"Oh all right," I sighed, realizing that no barrier I constructed could withstand the force of youthful curiosity. "The fuss is about the fact that President Clinton had sex with a woman who wasnít Mrs. Clinton and then lied about it."
"Was this that Gennifer Flowers, Iíve heard about?"
"Uhhh... no. Change that to ĎPresident Clinton had sex with two women, etc.í" I corrected myself.
"Ohhh, itís that Paula Jones woman everyone says looks like a dog."
"No, no, no, Look Spike, the sex part isnít the main thing anyway. What Clinton is on trial for is the lying. For lying under oath that he had sex with another woman and I suppose in a more symbolic way for lying to Mrs. Clinton and Chelsea. And a lot of people want to see that heís punished for this."
"How did Chelsea feel about all this?" Spike asked, empathetically identifying with the child of the Clinton family.
"Well, I suppose she felt the same way you did when your father ran out on you and your mother with a 22 year old stripper and the mortgage money for the trailer."
"But Uncle Wil," Spike spoke up. "Mommy said Daddy died fighting for Americaís freedom in Viet Nam."
"In 1994? Suuure he did, Spike. Thatís what I meant to say."
"See, Uncle Wil, now youíre doing it. Youíre lying."
"Well, there are certain kinds of lies, Spike," I hastily defended myself. "There are lies that you tell to protect people, there are lies that you tell to protect yourself, and there are lies you tell when you feel yourself going into caffeine withdrawal while an annoying toddler prattles on at you about the state of the Nation."
"Are you ever punished for your lies Uncle Wil?"
"Well, Spike, Iím beginning to think that youíre part of my punishment."
"Okay, one more thing Uncle Wil, Whatís this oral sex I keep hearing so much about?"
"Well, now weíre talking Spike. Oral sex is one of Godís great gifts to mankind. In the Clinton case it basically entails what Bill and Monica did in their private time. They would wait until they were alone and then the President would pull his johnson out of his pants and..."
"President Johnson? I thought we were talking about President Clinton"
"No, Spike, his JOHNSON. You know, his wanker, his wee-wee, his Big Daddy, his penis!"
"Uhh, hold on, Uncle Wil" Spike said. "Iím not sure I want to hear this."
"No, Spike, this is important, " I said. "Iím not going to try and dodge your questions any longer. So Bill would pull out his penis and Monica would take it in her mouth and..."
"Uncle Willlll! I really donít want to hear this"
"Theyíd continue in this manner for quite some time, Clintonís manhood going in and out of..."
"Iím not listening!" Spike clamped his hands over his ears. "I canít hear you. Iím singing a song and I canít hear you! Sabbath Bloody Sabbath..."
"Anyway, Spike, theyíd carry on this way for quite some time, often while Clinton was conducting affairs of the state. Eventually heíd have an orgasm in which case a white fluidy substance would come out of his.."
"Aaaargh! Shut up. Shut up! Please, Uncle Wil, SHUT UP!"
"...would either spit or swallow this milky substance. And that Spike, is oral sex in a nutshell (No pun intended.)"
"That is totally gross, Uncle Wil," Spike moaned. "I wish you hadnít told me."
"Well Spike, now you know how the American people feel.
And why itís always best to lie."
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 - firstname.lastname@example.org
Visit Wil's web log, The Wil Forbis Blog, and receive complete enlightenment.