Spits-wad: Client 9

Not So Small Business

Let’s cut to the chase, OK? We don't necessarily disapprove of prostitution. It’s about the only free trade aspect of capitalism that truly honors the world’s oldest profession. We have supported small business for decades. If you can make a thousand an hour and keep it clean/safe, go for it----beats minimum wage and no benefits. And it certainly out-smarts Wal-Mart. However, having stayed at the Mayflower Hotel on past occasions, I will, if such domiciled opportunity ever arises again, definitely sleep atop the duvet and like that manic housewife in the Lysol commercial: spray the hell out of it.

Nothing is more interesting than listening to a hooker emeritus reach into the deep recesses of her experience and recall the little things about a great man’s needs. Am I getting confused here? Is it that great men have needs and ordinary men have urges? We do know that exceptionalism prevails in godly American households, and animal sex is somehow intertwined with cloven hooves and hypocrisy once it leaves the mating bed. Wouldn’t you love to be a crab on the wall of Reverend Hagee’s rutting attempts? He is after all into The End Times----so Republican. Well come to think of it----NOT! And why is it that Republican ‘badies’ are perverts and Democrats are manly-oriented toward the little blue dress?

The wise and worldly Netherlands has, for nearly a half century, treated prostitution like any other business: licensed, taxed, regulated, and health inspected. They certainly exact more professionalism and accountability, than say the American FDA stamp of approval. Now that China is poisoning America’s food supply, it is probably not a good time to take up with imports.

Anyone who has ever visited Amsterdam and wandered it’s neighborhoods not far from the train station can gaze at window displayed beauties draped in tasteful or garish lingerie, depending on taste 'How much is that doggy in the window'? Some of those pups are gorgeous! Europeans, as a rule, take such business in stride (including the English, whose upper classes often prefer caning to the real thing). It’s not unusual to see tourist families walking the boob markets as if it were a perfectly acceptable version of an X-rated Disneyland.

All that may change soon as Holland’s colonial past brings the bad karma of Sharia Law to bear on the bare. Except for the dreadnaught lands in the grim Calvinist north, the Netherlands probably has the most sensible attitudes about pleasure and sex of any peoples in the west, with the possible exception of the French, who know Americans are just deserving of the ridicule they engender in matters of prudery.

However much we might, in theory, approve of the world’s oldest profession, we take a dim view of violent pimps and child molesters whose employment in America, Asia, and the Sub-Continent qualify them for castration and boiling alive. Cops in the Land of the Free seem more interested in tap dancing with Larry Craig than protecting the vulnerable. If you doubt that, let me take you on a tour of the 'Tenderloin' in any city, any time of the day or night. Entrapment is and has always been a particular police perversion that puts to shame the need for vigorous professional aboveboard criminal investigation.

Somehow the excursions of balding overweight married men cruising Anonymous City Avenue after a few cocktails are so not interesting, unless they happen to be high and mighty, and particularly if they are bad cops. That brings us up to Spits-wad.

Hell hath no fury like a fan betrayed by the fall of a clay idol. Eliot Spitzer, scion of old American elites educated at Princeton and Harvard, was truly the wunderkind of justice during his years as Attorney General of New York State. He was gifted, ruthless, and very effective at busting corporate crime. And therein (pardon the expression) lies the rub. Apparently, randy Eliot never read Sun Tzu’s “Art of War.” His Republican enemies did, and long ago began setting a trap for the secretive pud-mister.

Spitzer’s stupidity in this matter is mind boggling. It was risky enough when he went to war with Republican corporations and their factotums in a corrupt New York legislature, but to expose himself to ruin for the cum-run of a Barbie missionary position, betrayed more than common sense. Marginally criminal NY Republican Senator Joe Bruno is beside himself with gleeful celebration as his nemeses is brought down. Nobody wins here.

We hope that over the six years and eighty thousand dollars of laundered money later, horny Spitz-wad got his full share of naughty nurse, smutty maid, nun run, or bad boy dominatrix. His constituents lost big time. The wags are having a picnic over this otherwise most common of affairs:

Once the anger has passed, the sad fact remains. Leftist nitwits conclude that Sptizer’s resignation speech was noble, and his diddling should be dismissed. We agree with the latter, but not the former. Sptizer’s cold, icy, faux contrition was enraging. And one has to wonder why the Mrs. (genuinely grief stricken) stood by that arrogant asshole and provided the martyr sympathy he did not deserve.

Quite aside from prurient interest and tales of the tails, much more is at the heart of this scandal than is at first evident. The trap set for Spitzer was long in the making. It was no accident or sudden discovery. Republican enemies, using national security spying techniques, dotted every 'I' and crossed every ‘T.’ Believe me, no one will ever hear of the other high profile members of the Emperor’s Club, particularly if they are Republican. Remember the last DC Madam scandal? All Missy Madam had to do was threaten to publish the little pink book to have the whole thing go away. Only Louisana senator Viter got some flack, and then it was all shoved under the rug. Both Craig and Viter continue to serve today, without so much as a snicker glance back. Spitzer’s embarrassment could have been worse: He might have been called ‘Client 4 1/2.’'