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

ISSUE 26:  Mid-September and still 90!


THAT he handed in his report a full two days before it was due says ONE THING:  Independent Counsel KEN STARR is a REAL NERD.

And POTUS' legacy, a topic reportedly foremost on his mind after he won his second term, has FINALLY been cemented for the history books:

He was afraid to STICK IT IN.

And that's why he's no JFK.

And thank GOD it was never necessary to preface any of the materials relating to RICHARD NIXON'S impeachment with the warning, "Some of the language in these documents is sexually explicit."  Shudder.

PROBLEMS WITH THE REPORT?  LET WIT MEMO KNOW!  The report has some MAJOR shortcomings and leaves a lot of question unanswered.  Fr'instance, just what WAS the "oral-anal contact" mentioned at mentioned footnotes 210 and 237 of the Narrative and footnotes 28 and 35 of the Grounds but nowhere else?  Why does it fail to deliver on its teaser of "brief genital to genital contact"?  Has anyone a copy of "Oy Vey! The Things They Say: A Guide To Jewish Wit," that MONICA gave her paramour [if love is measured by numbers of gifts, then, have any of us ever been loved like Bill?]  And WHY, for all its ballyhooed explicitness, does the report in its 400+ pages fail to use the word PENIS even once?  (and what does THAT say about KEN STARR?)  PLEASE, email us with any report problems or niggling questions that YOU may have sleuthed out!

But those problems aside,  that report is the greatest document in the history of American political thought, the Declaration of Independence and the Federalist Papers mere earn-big-bucks windshield flyers by comparison.  It's just the thing our weary country needs to turn the national dialogue away from frightening financial folderol and the prospect of death by terrorism and back to sex, sex, sex where we've always wanted it to be, all good-hearted, aware-of-our-mortality Americans who care more about sex than stocks, blowjobs than jobless rates, cum than commodities.  And we can savor it under the high-minded pretense of following a "constitutional crisis!"  So tell those holier-than-though anchors and pundtwits who complain of "disgusting" acts and "new lows" to shut the fugg up, stick to reading the damn news, and more details NOW.   Oh, were only BEAVIS AND BUTT-HEAD still around to provide definitive commentary as only they could!  In memory of MTV's late, lamented cartoon comedy duo, PECKERGATE will henceforth be known as WIENERGATE.

Even though the report spells the end of the sex phase of Ken Starr's grand jury, the TV trucks are still crowded around the E. Barrett Prettyman federal courthouse, across from the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art, as thick as ever, like they can't believe it's over.  What's needed now is a big, brougish, billy club swingin' cop in a double-breasted, copper-buttoned uniform to stroll up and announce, "Okay folks, break it up.  Show's over, go home.  Nothing to see here."

DOES HICKMAN EWING READ WIT MEMO?  March: WIT MEMO pronounces Monica's leaked Tripp tape tale the gen-you-wine article, on the grounds that "why would she spin a yarn in which the romance was never consummated, and the assignations left her unsatisfied, unfulfilled, and bitter?"  September: The Starr report reasons "Ms. Lewinsky's statements to some that she did not have intercourse with the President, even though she wanted to do so, enhances the credibility of her statements."   Grounds, I.A.6.   Same thought, duller writing (aren't there any synonyms for "statements?")

You coulda saved time and asked us, Mr. Starr.... we charge a lot less than those hired gun high rollers you've put on the public payroll.


WIT MEMO and the CENTER FOR DECONSTRUCTIONIST POLITICS hopes that all registered Democratic voters in the District of Columbia will join us this Tuesday in writing in MARION BARRY as the Democratic Party's nominee for DC MAYOR.  It should come as no surprise to anyone with even a fraction of a brain that this is the obvious choice, the compelling choice, the only choice.

The last several years have witnessed unprecedented prosperity and good fortune in the District.  We've seen the first budget surplus in recent memory, the influx of every kind of business under the sun, and the continued revitalization of vital downtown areas.  The once-infamous murder rate is down, the school system can finally count its students, and the streets were kept clean of snow this last winter.   All this happened under Mayor Barry's watch, reversing the dismal downward spiral that beset our fair city during first the Dixon and then the Kelly administrations.  And the LAST time the District was Boomtown, USA -in the early '80s - was also a time when Marion Barry was mayor.

What's that, you say?  That kudos for good times properly owe to high-falutin' junk like the control board, Congressional oversight, and a real estate boom, that the Mayor had NOTHING to do with it?  Then all the more reason to vote Barry!  If governing competence is irrelevant, then we say go with the ONLY candidate with the fame, the prestige, the eclat, and the international recognition that's made his a familiar name in households, bars, newsrooms and late night sound stages from hemisphere to continent all across the globe.

 With Marion Barry in office you know you're guaranteed to strike up conversations with complete strangers no matter where in the world you travel.  He's been through the valley and up to the mountaintop.  He's everyman.  He knows human frailty and the power of redemption:  he has more redemption in his little finger than all of his opponents have in their no-name, cookie-cutter, stumblebum behinds.  He shook off his own personal demons and weathered a multi-yeared persecution that in its scope, duration and expense rivals Ken Starr's grand jury.  And for all the bellyaching about supposed corruption, the petty misdemeanor charges they finally pinned on him through pimping pale in comparison to the felonies currently alleged of Washington's OTHER people's champ.

There's no alternative.  None of the current yawn-enforcing crop of Democratic candidates can compare.  They're so dreary that the current front runner is a bow-tied, bean-counting, eyeshade-wearing bureaucratic number-crunching accountant, and no accountant has ever run anything except an adding machine.  And while playing drums for MILES DAVIS and appearing on the greatest live jazz album of all time, "Four and More," at the tender age of seventeen was an incredible accomplishment, it doesn't make TONY WILLIAMS qualified to be our Mayor.   And the rest of the field is a bunch of new-generation same-olds, popinjays and mountebanks, and an off-the-wall old restauranteur whose burgers and fries are always off the mark, no matter how much chrome he puts on his eatery.   And in the other party?  That lady who's already run like a million times already.  Only MARION BARRY has the stature we so desperately need here in DC, the greatest capital city in this country we call a country!  The choice is clear: on Tuesday, pull that lever for (well, write in, actually) MARION BARRY!


EVERYONE knows that just about the coolest, hippest, most infectious dance-groove, toe-tappin', hip-hoppin' song on the air today is ROCKAFELLA SKANK, by Brit ex-Housemartin FAT BOY SLIM, whom we're already inclined to like for the way his moniker pays homage to a true DC original.  This is the song that goes, "Right about now / Funk soul brother / Check it out now / Funk soul brother..." And that's it.  That's the song.

And it works, except... after a few listenings WIT MEMO can't get away from the conclusion that Fat Boy is a bit of an underachiever.  Just being a funk soul brother -not even THE funk soul brother, just one among many- isn't much of an accomplishment.   And midway through our third beer at lunch last Tuesday it occurred to us that WIT MEMO has Fat Boy Slim beat on just about every score.

First off, we're not just funk, we're FUNKY.  You can't spell funky without fun and that's us, to a T.  And not just any old funky, the same old funky almost anyone can lay claim to with a little work, but SUPER FUNKY ... what other kind of funky is there that's worth being, anyway?  But all that funkiness can be a bit much by itself, and that's why you ALSO gotta be SMOOTH, and a high degree of smooth at that ... the top, the ne plus ultra, nothing less than ULTRA SMOOTH.  And so we are, so we strive to be.  And to set us apart from the big pack of soul brothers who might lay claim to similar qualities, let's be right up front that WE were first, we're NUMBER ONE.  So put 'em all together, layer Fat Boy's rhythms on top, and let 'er rip: Right about now / ULTRA-SMOOTH, SUPER-FUNKY SOUL BROTHER NUMBER ONE now / Check it out now / ULTRA-SMOOTH, SUPER-FUNKY SOUL BROTHER NUMBER ONE...

Now sing it a few times and trying telling me that WIT MEMO isn't droppin' the better science.


WIT MEMO recently toured by motorcycle the beautiful SKYLINE DRIVE in SHENANDOAH NATIONAL PARK and the BLUE RIDGE PARKWAY . . .  breathtakingly scenic byways at the crest of the mountains . . . and we're wondering: why do some signs warn of FALLEN ROCK, while others say FALLING ROCK?

Let's see if we've got this straight:  With one sign you look down, with the other, up?  It's either rock will fall, or rock's already fallen, but only one or the other, never both?  Once rock falls, do they change the sign?  If rock has already fallen, then why not clean it up and be done with the sign altogether?  Is the sign cheaper? How do they know that no more rock will fall?  If you get hit by falling rock in a fallen rock zone, do you have a case?  If someone has the straight skinny on this, then PLEASE fill us in.

NEXT ISSUE: Love found in shallow roadside grave with the back of its head stove in.

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