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Pilgrim's Progress


Our great nation began its journey on The Mayflower. Now, The Mayflower has hit the rocks. It's taking on water. The rats are scurrying off the lower deck. 400 years and we're right back where we started from. Getting seasick by the heavy undulating throbbing thrusts the Mayflower had to endure. Surging up and down, up and down. Back and forth. In and out, until we're all metaphorically spritzed by the salty brine of a wanting sea.

Haven't we learned anything since then? Don't we all know that if the Mayflower's a rocking, you don't come a knocking?

But, we can't help ourselves. We come a knocking. We can't get enough of that funky stuff. We can blame the 24-hour news cycle. We can blame the Internet. We can blame the terrorists. But, that would only be throwing stones from our steamed-over glass house. We've been attacked, people. By an alien force: Client 9 from My Space.

But, if you scratch just below the surface, you'll see that the enemy may very well be us.

Now, I know The Big Spritz is a hypocrite. Even more than that, he's a weenie. Destroying other people's lives by prosecuting them for something he himself was doing. He made his name by destroying other people. He's, as we say in the ghetto, "a hater." Now, it turns out he had his own definition of "The Mann Act." But, come on. Are any of you shocked, SHOCKED that he actually used the Internet to find sex? Is this where we find the great American experiment now?

Can we help but smirk over the fact that this married, decent representative of the Empire State, who proudly referred to himself as a sledgehammer, diverted some of his sledgehammering funds to stick his penis in some stranger's vagina repeatedly until he achieved ejaculation the night before Valentine's Day in the Mayflower?

It seems he didn't want to wear a condom. The whore "Kristen" made him. It seems he wanted to pay in advance for more extramarital whore sex. A sort of lay-away "lay away" program, if you will.

SO?

Am I missing something here? He did it. He admitted it. He humiliated his wife (who, by the way, was wearing a pearl necklace at the press conference) and embarrassed his children. He brought shame to the state of New York.

SO?

He's a politician!!! He's supposed to do these things, while we're left with ogling feline cable newscasters wearing their best "come hither" look as they provide the sorted details. Meanwhile, we've got 150,000 Americans stuck in the shooting gallery that is Iraq. Oil prices are rising faster than Eliot's Spitzer when he came into room 871 and first saw "Kirsten" waiting for him on his bed. Our housing crisis is in its refractory stage. Hillary is trying to play her game off the board again. McCain is insane in the membrane. Obama is black, or something like that. Not that it matters. But it might. But, who knows? Our Supreme Court is a political arm of our accidental power-grabbing president. Unemployment's rising fast. The Beatles' new record's a smash. And the only safe place to live is on an Indian reservation...And the band played on!

But, remember this, folks. The first governor of New York, Edward Hyde--Lord Cornbury for those keeping score at home--was a freaking cross-dresser for Chrissakes! That's where the bar has been set here, folks. The man went to parties in his dress! Not even Rudy did that...I think. So, in a way, we're just right back were we started from: at, on and in the Mayflower.