Slaves of the Potomac
June 7, 2002
By Hank Blakely
For a time I was becoming a little downhearted about this
Enron thing. But, with recent news from Houston, the song
of the lark has returned to my garden. I'm feeling almost
The affair to date has been as predictable as an up-or-down
vote on a Congressional pay-raise. We've seen the usual parade
of horse-thieves, shell-gamers and bagmen rushing madly from
side to side of the sinking ship, frantically trying to beat
each other to the lifeboats.
While this activity is not without its own clownish charm,
one nonetheless senses something missing – some overlooked,
possibly piquant je ne sais quoi...some hint of verve...some
smidgen of zest.
Oh, all right, sex.
I hope you won't think me a fan of moral error per se, it's
only that, given the laughably small chance of deriving any
substantive social benefit from our political leaders, it
would seem the least they could do is entertain us. And what
could be more entertaining than sex? I mean if you aren't
Mrs. Strom Thurmond.
The concept of turpitude as a form of public service is one
that has long been recognized and diligently honored by Democrats.
Members of the Party of Jackson have always had a keen and
innate appreciation of the fleshly joys, and pursue them with
avid glee. One thinks back to happy spring days in a Democratically-ruled
Washington when the air would be filled with the scent of
cherry blossoms and the soft, insistent rustle of bed-linen.
Sadly, the current administration seems to have dropped --
if you will -- the ball and fallen woefully short of its concupiscent
obligations. To be sure, there have been one or two Republican
leaders who have stumbled upon the concept of removable underwear,
but these occurrences are infrequent and quickly forgotten.
In general, the GOP is required to hold a mirror to its lips
to establish proof of life.
But recently from Newsweek come reports of pernicious hoo-hah
and carryings-on behind the shuttered, bolted, barred, barricaded,
locked, tightly battened and arc-welded doors of the Enron
corporation. We learn now of boozy parties, office assignations,
strippers, lap dancers, "office wives," and other un-churchly
The effect of these revelations upon my mood was both immediate
and electric. "Hot puppies!" I shouted, gleefully rubbing
my hands together, "Now we're gettin' somewhere!"
Regrettably, these accounts omit reference to anyone named
"Trixie" or "Bubbles" but there is plenty to indicate that
a new Sodom and Gomorra is springing whole from the Southwestern
In the wake of these revelations, speculation necessarily
strains to discern the implications for the Republican party's
future; particularly for the present administration, which
has long been -- how to put this -- "especially attentive"
to the concerns of the Enron corporation. One presumes a contaminant
effect and envisions the consequent headlines:
"I WAS STROM THURMOND'S LOVE SLAVE! (Exotic dancer reveals,
'Nonagenarian never said "No-No" to me')"
ELIZABETH DOLE INVOLVED IN VIAGRA STING! ('I was living in
a fool's paradise', confesses erstwhile Presidential candidate)"
Clearly, this is a turning point for the conservative movement
in America, but one that might well have a salubrious effect
on the public's interest in -- as it were -- domestic affairs
Certainly, newspaper readership will improve.
Hank Blakely is the creator and publisher of the online
satirical Journal, "W: The Phantom Presidency," at www.dystopical.com.