About a month ago former North Carolina Senator and once presidential hopeful John Edwards issued his own version of "I did not have sex with that woman." Only this time, instead of Bill Clinton's angry, finger-pointing delivery what we got from Plastic Ken was a smarmy, half-smirked, squinty-eyed look of incredulousness and mock indignation as if the reporter had just asked him the dumbest fucking question on Earth. 'What, me cheat? How dare you!'?
His denial was unequivocal, almost to the point of challenging, especially when he referred to the allegations as "tabloid trash." Probably not the smartest strategy when you happen to have an already zealous National Enquirer up your ass, feverishly gnawing away as it obsesses over proving its journalistic legitimacy. A dumb move indeed. Sort of like former Sen. Gary Hart's boneheaded challenge to the scandal-starved media back in 1987: "Follow me around. I don't care. I'm serious. If anybody wants to put a tail on me, go ahead. They'll be very bored." And follow him they did, right into his mistress Donna Rice's arms.
Cut to a month later, with Plastic Ken finally admitting last week to the rest of us what he claims to have confessed to his wife Elizabeth back in 2006: that he had a "liaison" with novice filmmmaker and 80's party girl Rielle Hunter. But wait, the affair took place while Elizabeth's incurable cancer "was in remission." Good thing. Its not like she was in chemo or anything. That would've been unconscionable. See? Plastic Ken does have a conscience after all.
Now in this same admission last week Plastic Ken, who chalks up his sexual indiscretions to unbridled narcissism, flatly denied that he's the father of Hunter's six month old baby. So let's get this straight: Edwards is unequivocally denying something else?. George W. Bush had it right when he so aptly said: "...Fool me once, shame on -- shame on you. Fool me -- you can't get fooled again." Exactly. No one believed Plastic Ken a month ago and we sure as hell don't believe him now. That he's volunteered to take a paternity test is not enough. I want him on Maury for one of those patented "Who's Your Baby Daddy" shows. I want all of America on the edge of their seats as Maury tears open the big manila envelope and declares, "Plastic Ken ... you ARE the father!" as the publicly humiliated Baby Daddy runs offstage in tears as Elizabeth and Rielle high-five each other and curse him out on national television. That would be most fitting.
To be sure, marital infidelity is rampant in Washington, and Plastic Ken isn't the first and surely won't be the last to let his roving shmecky out of his pants. He's in good company with other fellow self-destructive narcissists such as Hart, Clinton, John McCain, Newt Gingrich, Henry Hyde, Larry Craig, Bob Barr, Bob Livingston, David Vitter, Jim McGreevey and Elliot Spitzer. But what is it about these extra-special dirtbags -- Edwards, Gingrich, McCain to name a few -- who are not only compelled to betray their wives, but allegedly do so while these poor women are battling some sort of dreaded illness or debilitating physical condition? They reside on the bottom of the philanderers food chain. Yet that doesn't stop them from sanctimoniously lecturing the rest of us about morality and decency. While running for president last Fall Plastic Ken said, "...We are facing a moral crisis as great as any that has ever challenged us. And, it is this test -- this moral test -- that I have come to understand is at the heart of this campaign." ("now if you'll please excuse me, I have to go boink Rielle before Elizabeth's cancer returns"). It's enough to make you sick