by Carl Hiaasen
The page’s parents complained to Rep. Rodney Alexander of Louisiana, who told Majority Leader Rep. John Boehner and New York Rep. Thomas Reynolds. All have said they informed Hastert, whose recollections might be less hazy if Foley were not a member of his own party.
Foley was eventually questioned by House officials, and he agreed to stop communicating with the page. Hastert said the matter was handled quietly because neither the page nor his family wished to publicize it.
In defending himself, the speaker noted that editors at two Florida newspapers—The St. Petersburg Times and The Miami Herald—knew the content of the 2005 e-mail and decided not to write anything. It wasn’t a stellar moment for the Times or this paper, although nailing down the story would have been difficult—but not impossible—without the teen’s cooperation.
Hastert or any of the GOP big shots who knew of the e-mail were in a better position to investigate; with a single call, they could have put the FBI on Foley’s computer trail to find out if there was a pattern to his creepy correspondence. As it turned out, there was a pattern. The congressman (aka “MAF54”) resigned abruptly after Brian Ross of ABC News confronted him with graphically sexual electronic messages that he’d sent to an ex-page in 2003 and 2004.
More such revelations are bound to seep out in the days ahead, which is grim news for GOP incumbents as the midterm election approaches. This, after all, is the party that has declared itself morally superior; the party that lectures all of us about conservative family values; the party embraced by the Christian right as God’s political arm in America. The party that spent $47 million of taxpayer money investigating the Clintons, ultimately impeaching the president for lying about consensual sex with an adult woman who wasn’t his wife.
How much will these pious stiffs spend to ferret out the truth about one of their own who sought out underage boys? Will they bring back Ken Starr to track down those on Capitol Hill who knew what Foley was doing?
The young page who received that request for a photo last year thought it was sick, sick, sick, sick.
But not sick enough to concern the Republican leaders who shrugged it off. They were waiting for something sicker, and now they’ve got it.
September 2, 2007
Sen. Craig Tells What Really Happened …
Rejected first draft of Sen. Larry Craig’s press statement about his arrest in a restroom at the Minneapolis airport.
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out today.
I’m not.
Joined by my devoted wife, I’m here to assure the citizens of the great state of Idaho that I am not gay and never have been gay.
How do I know?
Because every week I answer a simple are-you-gay survey that I clipped out of a reputable underground men’s magazine and carry around in my very masculine rawhide wallet.
The survey questions are pretty easy: Can I whistle more than three Broadway show tunes? Do I tint my eyebrows? Can I make a quiche? Stuff like that.
The most points I’ve ever scored is 73, and you aren’t officially gay unless you score 75 or higher. So there!
As an outspoken crusader for conservative family values, I have extensively researched the gay lifestyle and trained myself to identify its sinister operatives. I usually remain on guard, but my concentration lapsed that fateful day in the Minneapolis airport. Let me explain.
Yes, as the police report says, I peeked into an adjoining stall in the men’s room. That’s because I thought I recognized the gentleman—he looked like a strapping young trout guide who once floated the Snake River with me—and I wanted to say howdy. That’s the extra-friendly Idahoan coming out in me, but apparently, the rules are different in the big city. The fellow rudely ignored me, so I sat down to take care of business.
As the police report states, I did start tapping my right foot. I have since come to learn that that is a common signal for persons wishing to make sexual contact in public restrooms. In my case, the explanation is totally innocent. There was this song playing on my iPod—“Vogue,” by Madonna (the live version!)—and my feet just went crazy to the beat. Now, I defy anyone, Democrat or Republican, to listen to that cut (the drum work is absolutely fierce!) and not start to boogie.
And yes, as the police report alleges, my right foot veered slightly under the divider and touched the foot of the gentleman who was in the next stall. Later, I found out that this is another sign often employed between men trying to “hook up.” Who knew?
Back in Crested Butte, you might get your teeth knocked out for playing footsies with another guy, but you wouldn’t get arrested and have your name splashed all over the headlines and end up as a joke in Letterman’s monologue. Geez Louise!
The police complaint goes on to say that I put my left hand under the stall divider three times, making an overt gesture to the other fellow (who, unfortunately, turned out to be an undercover officer).
Again, I have a simple explanation. There’s a little-known cowboy custom—even some cowboys haven’t heard of it—that says you always wave three times when saying goodbye to strangers. Once more, my western friendliness got me into trouble.
So why did I plead guilty to disorderly conduct if I did nothing wrong?
I was tricked by those crafty big-city prosecutors in Minnesota. Not being a legal sharpie, I had no idea that pleading guilty was actually the same as admitting guilt.
I apologize to my family, the voters of Idaho, and the Republican Party, which needs another sex scandal like Lindsay Lohan needs another vodka.
Mark Foley was dumb enough to e-mail those congressional pages, and David Vittner, my Senate colleague from Louisiana, was dumb enough to give his phone number to that escort service. Me? I didn’t tell anybody my real name until after I was busted!
Back in 1999, when I still wasn’t gay, I voted to impeach Bill Clinton for lying about having sex with that intern (I forget her name, but she had killer hair).
At the time, I told Tim Russert of NBC that Clinton was “a nasty, bad, naughty boy” who deserved a spanking. I stand by those words, as weird as they might sound today. Clinton was a very naughty boy.
I’m not. I’m a hardworking senator who believes in traditional values—faith, family, and a strict justice system, except as it is applied to certain sitting members of Congress.
Standing humbly before you this morning, I can honestly say that I’m as not-gay right now as I have ever been in my whole life. In fact, I’m so not-gay that the gay community wants nothing to do with me. This silly Minneapolis restroom incident has been blown out of proportion so badly, and it’s time to set the record straight.
Here’s a promise to the good folks of Idaho: I am so not-gay that I will quiz myself every morning with that magazine survey and publish the results in the Congressional Record for all to see.
The day I turn gay, you will be the first to know.
Then you can spank me all you like. Please.
January 18, 2009
America Catches Up with Its History
In the spring of 2007, at a gathering of fewer than 100 people in Indian River County, the junior U.S. senator from Illinois stood up and talked about leading this country in a new direction.
The man was sharp and impressive, and I left that event feeling absolutely certain that he had no chance of winning the Democratic nomination, much less the presidency. No way, I said, will America elect a black man with a strange name like that. Not in my lifetime.
Being wrong isn’t always bad. On Tuesday, Barack Obama will be sworn in as the nation’s 44th president.
The fact is difficult to absorb for a white kid who grew up in the South—and don’t let anyone tell you that Florida in the ’60s wasn’t the Deep South.
But the astonishment over what’s happening in Washington this week goes beyond the breaking of racial barriers. On another level, Obama’s ascent to the White House challenges the core skepticism of my generation, which we sometimes bear like a scar.
How did we become like this? It didn’t happen overnight.
One day, when you’re 10 years old, the teachers start crying and somebody whispers that the president got shot in Dallas.
A few years later it’s Martin Luther King, Jr., and then Bobby Kennedy, and even though you’re just a teenager, it dawns on you that your country can be a mighty dangerous place for leaders who dare to speak out for change.
That same year, voters choose Richard Nixon to be president because he says he has a secret plan to end the Vietnam War, the first in an avalanche of lies.
One day, a month before your high school graduation, you turn on the TV and see that four college students have been killed by the Ohio National Guard during a campus demonstration. These are American kids being shot by American troops, and now it dawns on you that your country can be a dangerous place for anybody who dares to speak out for change.
Later come the Watergate tapes, which confirm your darkest suspicions about Nixon and his goon squad. By the summer of 1974, when he was finally routed from the White House, the country was desperately gasping for fresh air. Just as it is today.
America is exhausted, tapped out. The last eight years have felt like a hundred.
George W. Bush and Dick Cheney are leaving office with some of the lowest public approval ratings in the history of ratings. Somewhere, Nixon must be chuckling.
Now the nation turns, with hope, to Obama. In a recent CNN poll, a stunning 82 percent of Americans surveyed had a favorable opinion of the president-elect. That says as much about the country’s punch-drunk psyche as it does about Obama’s charisma. We know he’s smart. We know he’s a good communicator. Now we’d like to see some supernatural powers, please.
He should begin by rebuilding the U.S. economy, a flaming pile from top to bottom. Fix the banking system, which, under Bush, was allowed to gorge itself on flimsy debt. Then unfreeze the credit markets, clean up Wall Street, and revive the housing industry. As soon as possible, thanks. Then he should reform public education so that every teacher gets a decent salary and every student learns to read. Add these to the national wish list: energy independence, affordable health care for everyone, and an end to global warming.
Don’t forget Iraq. Obama should withdraw U.S. forces swiftly and responsibly, while making sure that decades of sectarian atrocities are forgotten and all ancient hatreds set aside, so that the whole place doesn’t erupt in civil war as soon as we’re gone.
Then it’s on to Afghanistan, where the new president should shut down the opium trade, neutralize the Taliban, and track down Osama bin Laden before he dies of old age.
The situation in Gaza is a bloody nightmare, but with the right kind of persuasion, Obama should be able to bring Hamas and Israel together. Never mind that each side is a sworn mortal enemy of the other.
Then there’s Iran, Russia, the narco-war in Mexico …
Whew.
When Bush took office, the economy was purring, the national budget showed a surplus, and we weren’t at war with anybody. Those aren’t conditions in which voters tend to act boldly, and a candidate like Obama probably couldn’t have won the White House in 2000.
It took a total meltdown of confidence, a shattering of trust in our leadership, to bring such a long shot to the highest job in the land. Obama is inheriting problems so dire and tangled that they practically defy comprehension.
Despite the odds, lots of Americans are optimistic and even excited about the prospects of this new presidency. Among those are many in my generation, who once thought we knew better than to tie our hopes for this country to the voice and vision of one man. But it’s not a bad feeling.
October 31, 2009
Dear Sarah: Keep Up the Great Writing!
Confidential response of Sarah Palin’s book editor to the first draft of her upcoming memoir, Going Rogue.
Dear Sarah,
Thank you for turning in the manuscript so quickly. I thought only Stephen King could crank out 400 pages in four months! Seriously, there’s some terrific material here, and all of us at HarperCollins are thrilled to be publishing your life story.
Before we move ahead, the fact-checking department has asked me to pass along a few notes and comments that may require some revisions on your part.
1. Eric Clapton spells his last name with a C.
More significantly, his publicists tell us that you were not the inspiration for “Layla” and that he doesn’t recall ever having an affair with you. Is it possible you’ve got him confused with another rock star?
2. The mainland of Russia is indeed visible from parts of western Alaska during favorable weather conditions in the Bering Strait. Considering the ridicule you endured over this issue during the campaign, your desire to set the record straight is understandable.
Still, 78 pages is a big chunk of the book. Perhaps it’s possible to deal with the “I can see Russia” controversy a bit more succinctly.
3. Our researchers can find no evidence that Tina Fey belongs to the Taliban. Could you send us the sourcing for that reference?
4. John McCain’s campaign staff is vehemently denying the incident you describe in Chapter 13. Perhaps you could provide our legal department with the names of persons who actually witnessed the senator placing the duct tape over your mouth.
5. Even though you quit with 18 months remaining in your term, your achievements as Alaska’s governor will be of great interest to your readers and political supporters.
How about expanding that section of the book to a full chapter?
6. On page 107 of the manuscript, you describe a frisky interlude with Todd as taking place on a John Deere Cyclone 340 snowmobile.
However, that particular model has been out of production for several years. Is it possible that you two were cavorting on a Sprintfire?
7. Our researchers can find no evidence that Katie Couric is secretly financing the Sunni insurgency in Iraq. Could you send us the sourcing for that reference?
8. Although the passage about moose shooting from helicopters is certainly provocative, perhaps it could be re-polished to focus more on your cooking recipes—which look very yummy, by the way—than on the preferred field techniques for skinning and gutting.
9. Our copy editors are still struggling to sort out the many colorful characters in your manuscript. In one chapter, the children are called Bristol, Piper, Track, Willow, and Trig, yet only 44 pages later, they appear as Caribou, Cessna, Herring, Juniper, and Scrod.
Maybe you could check with Todd and get back to us on that.
10. “Mexican” is not a language (see manuscript page 188).
11. Our researchers cannot verify that David Letterman is “heavily involved” in the opium trade in eastern Afghanistan. Could you provide the sourcing for that reference?
12. The details of your high school basketball career are inspirational, but would it be possible to condense that section from three chapters to one? Just a thought.
13. John McCain’s office says that it was the senator, not you, who came up with the “two mavericks” campaign theme. He claims you originally proposed a slogan saying, “One Creaky Elder Statesman, One Hot Young Maverick—but Don’t Worry, Folks, She Knows CPR!”
14. Tony Blair was the prime minister of Great Britain. Tony Orlando is an American pop singer (see manuscript page 341).
15. Levi Johnston emphatically denies that Mitt Romney paid him to seduce and impregnate your oldest daughter. Furthermore, he claims that you personally offered him $50 to moon Joe Biden during the vice presidential debate.
Our legal department has suggested removing any mention of this young man (including those beer-pong photos) from the manuscript. What do you say?
Finally, on a personal note, I’m sorry you’re having so much difficulty reaching the ghostwriter we assigned to this project. After your first meeting, she left me a rather frazzled message saying she “needed to take a break and do some soul searching.”
We’ve tracked her to a
sweat lodge down in Taos, New Mexico, and I’m pretty confident she’ll be back on the “Going Rogue” Express in no time.
Meanwhile, keep up the great writing, Sarah. We can’t wait to read the finished book!
January 17, 2010
Robertson Again Blaming the Victims
It’s no secret that the Rev. Pat Robertson is a yammering fool, but last week he hit a new low.
During a chatty sit-down segment of his television program, The 700 Club, the prominent Christian preacher offered his viewers a unique explanation of the terrible earthquake in Haiti: “Something happened a long time ago in Haiti, and people might not want to talk about it. They were under the heel of the French. Napoleon the Third and whatever. And they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said, ‘We will serve you if you get us free from the prince.’ True story.
“And so the devil said, ‘Okay, it’s a deal.’ They kicked the French out, the Haitians revolted and got themselves free. But ever since, they have been cursed by one thing after the other, desperately poor.… They need to have, and we need to pray for them, a great turning to God.”
Robertson was referring to Haitian voodoo rites that were supposedly conducted before a slave uprising against French colonists in 1791. Why God waited more than 200 years to unload a natural disaster of such magnitude on an innocent generation of Haitians remains a question that perhaps God will answer for Robertson during their next private conversation.
It should be noted that Robertson’s idiotic comment was followed by a promise that one of his organizations, an aid group called Operation Blessing, would send medicine and workers to Port-au-Prince to help in the relief efforts.
A spokesman for Robertson has since scuttled forward to insist that the famous televangelist—a stalwart of the Christian Coalition and founder of the Christian Broadcast Network—wasn’t really saying that the earthquake in Haiti was caused by God’s wrath. But that’s exactly what Robertson was saying. It’s what he always says when something bad happens.
