With slick Willie absolved, or at least unimpeach-ed, perhaps we can land a new cultural beachhead;
but confused in the choosing is Monica's Big Creep-le, 'tween doing the people's business and doing the people...
Yes indeed, the women in the White House woodwork keep wafting up weft & wight; soon President Wilt Chamberlain Clinton will spew out a tell-all and los braggadocios can drop trou and duel... Senator Hillary - it has a certain air de flair, though I prefer Sir Edmund's ice and snow to the mountain of merde that will accompany that campaign... The betting pool has opened on the amount of solitary confinement time that Iron Mike will earn in the big house. So far, only inanimate objects have been launched, but it's only a matter of time before #66543 (petty larseny and B&E) flies wallward in the jailbird B'n'B. I think Mikey needs a girlfriend - or maybe to be a girlfriend... The Greaseman is gone; occasionally the venomous stupid get exactly what they deserve... But on a lighter note; at least we chose not to ski in the Alps this year. Hooray, at last for the restraining power of fiscal deprivation... O Muff, dem O's is working out. Tight pants on TV; the girl is just plain hyp-mo-tized... Got a new e-mail, and a web page address. The page is headed down the home stretch and should be visible within two weeks of this missive (at last). Please send me yo' e-mail addresses; my old software ate my address book before leaving to ski. I don't think it's returning...
Hasta la bye-bye; spring, she's a-coming...
