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

ISSUE 28: October's here, and we're outta here!


Hope you know all that there is to know about the crying game, 'cause there'll be a brief hiatus in publication as WIT MEMO returns to the magical land of HOLLAND, to recapture memories of last year's wonderful holiday, and to retrieve a favorite eyeglass case we're pretty sure we left on the nightstand at our Amsterdam hotel (not to mention the umbrella with some life left in it that we forgot getting off the train to the airport. The lost-and-found will be our first stop!)
HOLLAND . . .  (The Netherlands,  literally, "land down under," or, "former British penile colony") . . . "It Isn't Just Hollandaise Sauce Anymore". . . the land of windmills and wooden shoes, a gorgeous little country sandwiched between Belgium and the Sandwich Islands, founded by Dutch pilgrims fleeing religious oppression in Britain.  HOLLAND is justly famed for many fine products and delicacies that you'd recognize in a heartbeat (eat your heart out, Westinghouse- The Netherlands is the world's premier producer of fine bulbs!) and WIT MEMO hopes to sample as many as we can, as we visit the storied cities of EDAM and GOUDA, as well as the storied cities of AMERICAN, VELVEETA, and STRING.  We'll also be taking a train ride to HAARLEM, to check out some of the storied jazz clubs.

But most of all, we're just itchin' to head back to AMSTERDAM to visit once again the incredible VAN GOGH MUSEUM, home of perhaps the most visually stunning and compelling collection of paintings anywhere in the world.  Recently the media has been making somewhat of a hub-bub over an exhibition of Van Gogh paintings currently at DC's NATIONAL GALLERY OF ART, but WIT MEMO figures, why bother with that pale imitation when we can see the REAL MCCOY?  'Nuff said!

HOLLAND!! "You'll Go for the Dikes, but You'll Stay for the Cheese!"

We COMPLETELY FORGOT to mention:  struggling through the past several week's tsunami of Wienergate matter, WIT MEMO was surprised and delighted to discover that one of POTUS' premier inquisitors was none other than Deputy Independent Counsel ROBERT BITTMANWIT MEMO was Mr. Bittman's biggest fan some fifteen years ago when, better known as BOBBY "HOW ARE YA?" BITTMAN, the hilarious comedian, accomplished comic actor and all-around "funny man" was a mainstay of the now-defunct Canuck broadcasting network SCTV.  In those glory days Bobby Bittman could oft be seen enlivening the humorous proceedings on the SAMMY MAUDLIN SHOW, whose influences are still felt in such venues as CONAN and THE LATE SHOW WITH DAVID LETTERMAN.   Mr. Bittman was also a talented auteur and director, and his rarely-seen feature work "FUNNY STUFF," co-starring LOLA HEATHERTON, was so far ahead of its time that it was doomed to obscurity.  He pretty much dropped off our radar screens when SCTV's parent company Caballero Broadcasting went belly up some years back; we'd figured he was probably in semi-retirement or working the resort hotels of the Yukon's "tundra belt," but we never DREAMED he switched careers and headed for law school!  Good for you!  Now stop holding back with those deadly ad-libs that used to keep us in stitches!

Also in Wienergate . . . faithful readers know we've been intrigued by the Ken Starr report's four footnote references to "oral-anal contact" . . . last issue we bemoaned our inability to track down the source of that gem in the supporting documents... but all the time it was right in front of our face!!  Each of those footnotes references a few pages in Monica's 8/26/98 deposition.  Well, we've looked, and it's STILL a mystery!

Specifically, footnote 209 to the Narrative section of the report cites page 20 as the source of the oral-anal reference.  We looked, via the CNN site, and there's NOTHING on page 20 about oral-anal contact, not even the vaguest I-can-see-Uranus-quite- clearly-tonight" allusion.

What gives?  Admittedly, the other three tongue-bung footnotes cite pages 18-20 and 29-33, and some of THOSE pages have large portions blacked out, presumably by the House, those bastards, before releasing the transcript, but still, the cite for footnote 209 is just PLAIN WRONG!  WIT MEMO has been known to whip up a written legal analysis or two based on transcripts, and we would be JUST MORTIFIED if we were guilty of that sort of sloppy, careless citation!!

Still . . . the award for "Most Insightful and Historically Significant Question Ever Posed by an Attorney Investigating a Constitutional Crisis That Could Lead to the Impeachment of a President" has to go to Associate Independent Counsel KARIN IMMERGUT, who at page 7 of the 8/26 deposition asks Monica, "Back to the touching of your breasts for a minute..."


Having been one of the lucky few to catch LIZ PHAIR's 1993 date at the old Nightclub 9:30, WIT MEMO was more than thrilled when a pal came through with a ticket for her sold-out bravura return to the revamped 9:30 last week.  A Stones fan with a keen wit, Ms. Phair is known for her knack for cooking up sexually explicit lyrics that capture universal emotions and come of as genuine in context.  When she performed the notorious "Flower," from her first album "Exile in Guyville," we wondered if MONICA might not have been listening to that tune some years ago when she informed (yet another) married boyfriend ANDREW BLEILER of her plan to go to Washington to earn her "Presidential knee-pads."

Instead of an opening act, the show began with a Liz Phair slide show projected onto a filmy curtain fronting the stage; photos of the artist that ranged from high fashion to candid snapshots, some nudity included.  In some, she strangely recalled a slimmed-down JENNICAM.

Of all the songs she played that night, none delighted the avid crowd as much as her current radio hit, "POLYESTER BRIDE."  At first blush this song appears to find the then-single singer bemoaning the state of available men and receiving sagacious advice from her bartender friend Henry, whom she considers herself lucky to know.  But after hearing this cut several times at home, WIT MEMO is convinced that the meaning is far different: basically, Henry is a dangerous, brooding, self-centered, embittered egomaniac, probably frustrated by his lot in life and likely bipolar as well.

This is the song where she sings, "I asked Henry, my bartending friend, should I bother dating unfamous men?"  And, as she tells us in the next line, Henry replies, "You're lucky to even know me.  You're lucky to be alive."  Pretty good no-nonsense, back-to-earth advice for someone kvetching about her love life.  But the song takes a disturbing turn when Liz offers a different musing on the topic of the opposite sex - "Why d'ya suppose there are those kind of men?"- and receives EXACTLY the same response!

Now mind you, her second question is completely unrelated to her first; when she complains  "why are there those kind of men" she just CAN'T be referring to the "unfamous men" from the earlier line, no WAY she's that mean spirited and arrogant.  So, it's a completely different question -it might even be some other day or week-  and STILL Henry hisses, "You're lucky to even know me!"  Huh?  Is he even listening to her?  What's he so bitter about?  Where does he get off?  What's his beef?  Why is he so focused on his own problems?  If some simple how-d'ya-do conversation from a regular is enuf to unleash a jeremiad of self-obsessed bitterness, then maybe Henry should start looking for another line of work.  Picture this: Guy strolls into a bar and asks "How're the Bulls lookin' this year?" (Liz lives in Chicago), and Mein Host snaps back, "Buddy, you're lucky to even know me!"  Uh, I think I must have walked into the wrong bar; I was just looking for someone, they're not here, so, I'll just be moving on now, thank you.


Coming soon to open-mike night at a cool coffee house in a changing-but-not- quite-there-yet part of town near you:  WIT MEMO is proud to present the moving poetry of "The Bard of the Open Road," CRANKCASE WILLIE, who shares his free-verse images of the byways and back roads of this great country we call a country.  Anyone with the wanderlust in her heart will want to turn out to hear Crankcase Willie recite endearing idylls from his latest collection WHISPERS IN THE WINDSHIELD, including "Use your turn signal BEFORE you turn, not just WHILE you turn, asshole!!"  and, "MOVE IT, fer cryin' out loud, why d'ya think it's called an "ACCELERATION" lane?!?"  Two latte minimum.


For the past few months, there's been a slender middle aged man standing in front of the Vatican Embassy at Massachusetts Avenue and 34th Street, holding a large sign that says, "MY LIFE WAS RUINED BY A CATHOLIC PEDOPHILE PRIEST."  He's there each day, during evening rush hour, ringing a bell.  We've ridden by him many times now, we don't what he's been through or how it may have touched his life, but we're happy to note that he still has it together enough to drive a car and stick to a regular schedule.  Still, someone might want to tell him that his other sign, "POPE GIVES LIP SERVICE ON PEDOPHILIA" is probably a poor choice of words.


Anything not clear?  Then E-MAIL ME!!
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