Last week, I was intrigued by the prospect that you might go to the Big House, do some hard time, pump some prison iron, and come out in better shape for your inevitable pummeling--I was looking quite forward to the challenge, I admit. But then you had to go all soft and let the system
molly-coddle you. Weak.
You know, in the midst of Clinton's semantic gymnastics as he tried dodging all matters carnal, you were among the fray hollering about how the children were the ones suffering in all of this--that those poor little tykes were being unduly influenced by our philanderer-in-chief to think of certain fleshly acts as non-sexual. I wonder if you'd accept the same causal argument now that we see
Oxycontin abuse is up dramatically among the ankle-biter set. Care to apologize?
