"Where Top-Hat, Red-Carpet Service is Considered A Motto"

ISSUE 25:  End O' AUGUST, Vacation over!  WIT MEMO just back from ten-day cure at the Clean Bunghole Ranch, Spa, and Conference Center in Salton Sea, California!


Monday, August 17, 10 pm EDT:

Good evening. This afternoon in this room, from this chair, I (got good head) testified before the Office of Independent Counsel and the (gland) grand jury.

I answered (a few of) their questions truthfully, including questions about my private (parts) life, questions no American citizen would ever want to answer (unless a hot zaftig intern was doing the asking).

Still, I must take (off my pants) complete responsibility for all my actions, both (pubic) public and private. And that is why I am speaking to you tonight.

As you know, in a deposition in January, I (lied) was asked questions about my (exchange of bodily fluids) relationship with Monica Lewinsky. While my answers were legally accurate (as opposed to any other kind of accurate), I did not volunteer information (WIT MEMO sez never volunteer for anything).

Indeed, I did have a relationship with Miss Lewinsky (BIG surprise) that was not appropriate. In fact, it was wrong (but it felt soooooo right!). It constituted a critical lapse (of my belt buckle) in judgment and a personal failure (of my belt buckle) on my part for which I (and my belt buckle) am solely and completely (reprehensible) responsible.

But I told the grand jury today and I say to you now that at no time did I ask anyone to lie (just to kneel or sit) to hide or destroy evidence (just swallow it) or to take any other unlawful action.

I know that my public comments and my silence about this matter gave a false impression (That's okay, Mr. President!  Nobody really took you seriously!). I misled people, including even my wife. I deeply regret that (she found out. Oy, that hurts!).

I can only tell you I was motivated by many factors (BOI-OI-OI-OI-OINGG! )  First, by a desire to (bust a nut) protect myself from the embarrassment of my own conduct. I was also very concerned about (using protection) protecting my family. The fact that these questions were being asked in a politically inspired lawsuit (which also sprung, like my current imbroglio, from a request to put some lipstick on my dipstick), which has since been dismissed, was a consideration, too (as was the possibility that Chelsea might stop bringing her roommates home for the holidays).

In addition, I had real and serious concerns about an independent counsel investigation that began with private business dealings 20 years ago (WIT MEMO thought the investigation began FOUR years ago, but who's counting?), dealings, I might add, about which an independent federal agency found no evidence of any wrongdoing by me or my wife over two years ago. (Or, to phrase it another way, MONICA has a well-established M.O. of hitting on older married men, probably to assuage weight-linked insecurities.  It was her idea.  I'm a victim here, a victim of soy-cum-stance.  She put a spell on me.  When they dangle that Fine Thang in your face, what's a guy supposed to do?  That li'l lady could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.  If you don't get fed at home you have to eat out.  Come to Butt-head.  Help me, Mr. Wizard!)

The independent counsel investigation moved on to my staff (not exactly the same staff that Monica moved on) and friends, then into my (pants) private life. And now the investigation itself is under investigation. (And soon, the investigation of the investigation will itself be under investigation.  And then that investigation will be under investigation.  And then...)

This has gone on too long (that's what I tried to tell her, but she took it oh-so hard), cost too much and hurt too many (teardrops, for one heart to carry on. Dee-doo-dee-deeeee, dah do-dah-dah do-dah-dah. -? & The Mysterians) innocent people.

Now, this matter is between me, the two people I love most -- my (tallywhacker) wife
and (my tallywhacker) our daughter, -- and our God (did I mention my tallywhacker?).  I must put it right (in her mouth, 'cause eatin' ain't cheatin') , and I am prepared to do (whomever) whatever it takes to do so.  Nothing is more important to me personally. But it is private, and I intend to reclaim my family life for my family. It's nobody's business but ours. Even presidents have (newspaper lovers/Ministers go crawling under covers. -Elvis Costello) private lives.

It is time to stop the pursuit of (pussy) personal destruction and the prying into private lives and get (it) on with our national life.

Our country has been distracted by this matter for too long, and I take my responsibility for my part (that I got caught in a wringer) in all of this. That is all I can do. Now it is time  -- in fact, it is past time -- to move on (anything with a hole and a heartbeat, once this thing dies down).

We have important work to do -- real (sweet ass) opportunities to seize, real problems to solve, real security matters to (sit on my) face.

And so tonight, I ask you to turn away from the spectacle of the past seven months (Oh, get a life, girlfriend!  No way WIT MEMO is dropping our after-work MSNBC) to repair the fabric of (my pants) our national discourse, and to return our attention to all the challenges and all the promise of the next (sweet young thing around the corner) American century.

Thank you for watching. And (oh please God make it stop) good night (Beam me up, Scotty!).

WELL . . . YOU PROBABLY THOUGHT WIT MEMO would be eating crow... chipotle-rubbed mesquite-grilled breast of crow in a shiraz lingonberry reduction on a bed of quinola grits... just 'cause last issue we said "don't look for BC to 'fess up any time soon."  But we called it on the money:  that was NO mea culpa, just fuming at being caught (with his pants down). Gawd, if only he'd shed crocodile tears, confessed boorishness, or at least copped a slyly guilty "I'm a baaaaad boy" plea!  WIT MEMO HINT to POTUS:  Study BART SIMPSON for masterful tips on how to deliver a really top-notch, genuine-sounding FAKE APOLOGY.

But drop your socks and grab your Glocks:  WIT MEMO is giddy over reports that we'll soon be reading the too-explicit BLOW-BY-BLOW Monica gave KEN STARR's gland jury (and relieved to keep safely in hand the set of fine stemmed PILSNER GLASSES we'd promised in WM 14 for copies of the boring-by-comparison "sealed" depositions in the PAULA JONES suit).   They say it'll be as lurid as we could have hoped for, with NBC in particular claiming the Oval Office assignations "involved unusual practices" -including fresh reports of a cigar-shaped object in the thighs (A woman is just a woman, but a good cigar is a penis -Kipling).   Depending on what's actually revealed, the phrase "unusual practices" could end up saying more about the pundwits who coined it than about Monica and her President-erect inamorata.

BUT GIVEN THE CHOICE, all things being equal, WIT MEMO would STILL rather have a President who came on a young woman's dress, than a President who threw up on the Japanese Prime Minister's pants.


A ex-President's standing in history and the eyes of the electorate should be reflected in the size of the airport named for him.  You'd think that, wouldn't you?  Then why is the much-heralded RONALD REAGAN National Airport -only a "national" airport after all- so minuscule in comparison to the less-well-known but behemoth GEORGE BUSH Houston INTERCONTINENTAL Airport?!?   The disparity is especially galling when you consider that GOP scholars universally laud the two-term-landslide Gipper as by far the greater Prez, who, despite creeping senility and a penchant for fabricating anecdotes, oversaw the fall of the Evil Empire and the rebirth of conservatism, whereas his one-term former Veep ceded the Executive Mansion to a tribe of sex-crazed peckerwoods, raised taxes and shattered his read-my-lips pledge, betrayed the Reagan Revolution which he'd previously labeled voodoo economics, vomited on the Japanese Prime Minister, and, if certain crackpots are to believed, joined his successor in handing US sovereignty over to a one world government headed by the UN and the Trilateral Commission.

If WE were right-wingers, we'd be leading a campaign to address this travesty right now!!


The constellation ORION, THE HUNTER, seen very late at night, last week by Aloha Lake in the Desolation Wilderness of California's Sierra Nevada mountains.  This means it's now winter.


But it still FEELS like summer, and, to WIT MEMO, nuthin' means summer more than the sight, sounds, and smells of a cookout!!  Mountains of mouth-waterin', lip-smackin', steaks, ribs, chops and chickens a-sizzling on a hot hot grill!

We like nothing better to don a corny barbecue apron, fire up the old brick patio fireplace grill, and have a few friends over for a mess of our famous, patented, flame-kist, Texas-sized T-Bone steaks . . . charred on the outside, blood-rare on the inside, smothered in link sausages!   Washed down with dozens of coned-shaped glasses of icy Pilsner beer with bourbon chasers, and bottomless cups of coffee!  Stick a fork in me Ma, I'm done!

And all cookout fans know that the old fave dishes are STILL the best . . . so leave that "new American" cuisine cookbook on the shelf and try THIS classic recipe from TRADER VIC'S KITCHEN KIBBITZER (1952):

"To prepare the calf's head, remove the hide and wash the oral cavity... place it in the ashes and coals... cooking is an all-night or all-day job.  To serve, the skull must be cracked open with a cleaver to get at the brains and the latter and the tongue are seasoned to taste.  The meat on the outside of the skull needs no seasoning.  It is rich, sweet, and has a flavor all of its own and is probably the most delicious meat on the animal... Ordinarily, a head will serve 8 to 10 people... It is considered quite a delicacy by a lot of ranchers."

"A calf's head is nearly always boned before serving... if it is not boned, you should carve the head in strips from the ear to the nose.  With each of these should be served a piece of what is called the throat sweetbread, cut in semi-circular form from the throat part.  (The eye and the flesh around it are favorite morsels with many: they should be given to those guests who are known to be connoisseurs.)"



Congrats and a tip o'the hat rack to pro grappler GOLDBERG, who recently claimed the World Championship Wrestling heavyweight title belt to become the first overtly Jewish big-time wrestling champ in recent memory!  And special congratulations to PROUD MOM LUCIANNE!!  Mazel Tov!!!

Next Issue: The REAL stuff!

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