SECTION ONE

The Blacklisted Journalist Picture The Blacklisted Journalistsm

COLUMN THIRTY-ONE, MARCH 1, 1998
(Copyright 1998 Al Aronowitz)

INSPECTOR SHITHOUND AND THE PRESIDENT

pres2.jpg (33812 bytes)
(Caricature by Mark Christopher)

Who elected Kenneth Starr to be America's Grand Inquisitor so he could peek through White House keyholes in an obvious attempt to nullify the country's electoral process?

Clearly, he's just another dirty trickster acting as agent for the party of dirty tricks, which has been eating its heart out since it lost the 1992 election, except, of course, the party of dirty tricks never had a heart. That's because the party of dirty tricks is also the party of the rich, and not only do the rich never play fair, but the party of the rich and the party of dirty tricks is also the party of greed. Greed, as everyone should know, is an alias for the devil. It's greed, after all, which keeps raping the earth, polluting its atmosphere and ensuring that the earth eventually will be rendered uninhabitable for humankind. That's how the dinosaurs became extinct, but people obviously aren't much smarter than the dinosaurs were.

The party of dirty tricks, of the rich, of greed and of the devil is obviously the Republican Party, which represents the 10 per cent of the people who own 90 per cent of the wealth of this country. The 10 per cent of the people who own 90 per cent of the wealth are the paymasters of our politicians, hired to make sure that the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer. Obviously, politicians are what's wrong with politics. They are mostly lawyers trained in doubletalk who, as our legislators, keep enacting doubletalk laws, making it necessary for the public to hire doubletalk lawyers just to stay on the right side of our injustice system.

There was a time when the Democrats were considered the party of the people and looked out for the interests of that 90 per cent who own only 10 per cent of the wealth. But money changes everything. To politicians of either party, politics is a profession, in other words, a way to line their pockets, which are too often lined with what is picked from the pockets of the poor, the ignorant, the downtrodden, the powerless, the uneducated and that dumb dinosaur of a public who can least afford to be robbed.

Because the 10 per cent of the people who own 90 per cent of the country's wealth also own the media, they've been able to bullshit our dumb dinosaur of a public into voting for the likes of Newt Gingrich, Trent Lott and a Republican majority in Congress that has declared class war against the very dummies who got bullshitted into voting them into office. How else but dumb can you characterize a public that elected Richard M. Nixon, the politician who insisted, "I am not a crook"? Don't you have to be a crook even to become a politician in the first place?

What's been eating at the Republican Party's non-existent heart ever since Nixon got nailed with his hand in the till, is the need to erase that disgrace by getting even, in other words by nailing a Democratic President. Propelled by a bunch of right-wing Christian fundamentalist phonies, the Republicans were out to nail Bill Clinton from the moment he beat them in the voting booths. They were sure they could catch him with his hand in the till, too.

The Republicans can't stand the fact that Democrat Bill is balancing the budget, that he's trickier and slickier than any one of them, that he's more popular than they are, that he's handsome, attractive and virile and that he has presided over one of the biggest booms that this country has ever enjoyed. So they sicked their dogs on him. They searched their kennels to find their most dedicated and loyal attack dog, Grand Inquisitor Starr.

Like a bloodhound, attack dog Starr started sniffing out the President's trail. He was just the attack dog to inflate a failed two-bit land deal into the same kind of high treason committed by Richard (I Am Not A Crook) Nixon. His task was to sniff out enough shit to


You have to be a mean-spirited prick to want to be a prosecutor in the first place


force Clinton through the exit door. Except an attack dog that sniffs out shit is not so much a bloodhound as a shithound. That's what I call him. A shithound. Inspector Shithound.

The Republicans engineered it so that Inspector Shithound got an acronym to cover up what he's really supposed to be, which is a prosecutor. As everybody knows, you have to be a mean-spirited prick to want to be a prosecutor in the first place. A prosecutor has to know every dirty trick that was ever played and he has to be ready to play every one of them, whether the accused is guilty or innocent. But then, to be a Republican is to be a mean-spirited, dirty trickster to begin with.

Immediately, Inspector Shithound starts squeezing people, throwing them in the clink if they don't come across with some shit to smear on the President. Inspector Shithound is like a character out of a Saturday morning cartoon. Here's Inspector Shithound sniffing and sniffing and sniffing and sniffing. He's got the FBI and the whole U.S. treasury at his disposal, but, after spending close to 40 million of your taxpayer dollars and nearly five years of sniffing, Inspector Shithound can't find shit.

Like I said, his intention is really to discover a reason to nail the President and nullify our electoral process. It doesn't matter to Inspector Shithound for what. So, Inspector shithound starts working paw-in-paw with Long-Nosed Paula, the sanctimonious bitch being walked on a short leash by some notoriously right-wing Republican loonies. Long-Nosed Paula wants more than two million dollars and a written apology from the President because she says the President offended her feminine virtue in the way he once came onto her when he was her boss.

Long-Nosed Paula obligingly leads Inspector Shithound to a couple of turds whom we'll call Madam Goldfinger and Linda the Rat. Inspector shithound, of course, is always drawn to whatever stinks, and who stinks worse than Madam Goldfinger, an agent employed by the Republicans to spy on the Democrats, and Linda the Rat, who claims to be her own version of an independent shithound. She keeps herself busy cultivating the friendship of White House ingenues in search of some dumb bimbo Linda the Rat can betray. Linda the Rat sees big money in sniffing out shit.

Linda the Rat has illegally taped telephone conversations in which Monica the Mouth boasts of her sexual exploits at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Remember when Newt and some of his fellow Republicans were taped by someone listening to them as they plotted and conspired on cell phones? Newt and his pals screamed bloody murder and demanded that the tapers be arrested. Now the shoe is on the other foot, but Inspector Shithound thinks he can jam the foot into the President's mouth.

See, this is the Inspector's big chance to turn his Salem Witch-hunt into a Spanish Inquisition. So what if Linda the Rat has broken the law by surreptitiously taping Monica the Mouth's phone conversations? Anyone who complains, Inspector Shithound merely sics a grand jury on them. Surreptitious tapings? How else does a prosecutor crucify anybody? The Inspector puts a body bug on Linda the Rat and tells her to trap Monica the Mouth into blabbing some more. Clearly, the Inspector wants to nail the President for something, no matter what, even if Inspector Shithound has to peek though the President's keyhole.

Inspector Shithound wants to hear Monica the Mouth's dirty stories for himself. What do the dirty stories have to do with the failed two-bit land deal? Or with governing the country, for that matter? Inspector Shithound doesn't give a shit. The Inspector tells Monica the Mouth that she's gonna join the others he's already thrown into the clink, unless she helps him smear some shit on the President. Inspector Shithound sees a chance to catch the President in a lie. He wants to ask the President if Monica the Mouth sucked the President's dick. Of course, the President's going to say no.

The reason a man wins America's Presidency in the first place is because he's a better liar than the other candidates. America gives its biggest reward to its biggest fake. So what if the President says he didn't get his dick sucked when everybody knows he did? "Mr. President, did you get your dick sucked?" That's like asking a guy when he stopped beating


Inspector Shithound's buttons pop off his shirt as he thinks of himself as the Grand Inquisitor


his wife. What's the President supposed to say? Let's give the President credit for lying because he considers that lying in this case is the patriotic thing for him to do. For the President not to lie would be to corrupt the minds of children.

Meanwhile, Inspector Shithound's buttons pop off his shirt as he thinks of himself as the Grand Inquisitor, empowered to chop off the President's head. So, for what high crime and misdemeanor does Inspector Shithound indict the President after spending $40 million and nearly five years of sniffing, with the help of an enormous staff of junior shithounds, plus a squad of maybe 200 FBI agents? Inspector Shithound nails the President for denying he got a blow job.

Stop the presses!

For a man, to get a blow job in this Age of AIDS is more or less an accepted form of safe sex. So what's the big deal? Did the President force Monica the Mouth to get down on him? No, she was a volunteer. She came onto the President, waving her cocksucker kneepads. After all, the President may have to run the country, but, as a red-blooded American male, he has to get off, too. Does Inspector Shithound, the Grand Inquisitor, think we're still living in the days when they hanged people for adultery?

Grand as the Inquisitor may think he is, he's not grander than the man the people elected and re-elected President. How dare Inspector Shithound insult the majesty of the United States by asking its Commander-in-Chief: "Mr. President, did you get your dick sucked?" Isn't that what this is all about? Inspector Shithound has gone too far. Inspector Shithound holds an office never once mentioned in our Constitution, and yet he claims the authority to invade the privacy of what the Constitution hails as the equivalent of America's king? He dares to peek through the keyhole of the nation's Head of State? The Secret Service guards should shoot him on sight!

No, Inspector Shithound Starr, you have gone too far. The stench you've raised is your own. America doesn't want a Grand Inquisitor peeking through the President's keyhole. America doesn't want a police state that sticks its nose into every man's pants and underneath every woman's dress. And, by the way, Inspector Shithound, did you ever get your dick sucked? ##

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