I hope the patriotically-minded remained sober and awake long enough last night to savor “Larry King Live.” He was interviewing that singular White House operative who spent more time with President Bill Clinton than the Boy President’s Director of Central Intelligence. I am speaking of the buxom Monica. There are ironies here.
The most salient of ironies — and the irony that passes unnoted by the liberal sages in the Kultursmog — came to mind when Miss Monica whined about how the prosecutors had importuned on her with all sorts of prosecutorial madness. They interviewed her mother and father. They asked about the most intimate of indelicacies. Yes, such intrusions are uncomfortable. Yet here is the irony. Such intrusions are pro forma with sexual harassment law, and who is it that authored those laws to the embarrassment of such a wide array of witnesses as Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill, Miss Monica, and the former Boy President? Well, the liberals and the feminists led by the likes of Bill Clinton and Hillary Clinton. In other words, the Clintons were hoisted on their own petard. Had they and their cohorts not imposed sexual harassment law on us Bill might never have been asked all those intrusive questions, and he might not have been impeached.
What is more, had the liberals not brought their barnyard amours into the office there would not even be the issue of sexual harassment. Feminists have imposed on the country the myth that historically Americans always were gropers and ham-fisted Casanovas. Truth be known, up until the late 1960s America was always chided by the hot-blooded Europeans for our sexual restraint. Yet for forty years our liberal friends (aided and abetted by assorted sex maniacs) have broken down that restraint. We can talk dirty. We can “pursue relationships” (Miss Monica’s language) everywhere, even in the workplace. And, of a sudden, we can find ourselves in the kind of lawsuit that Miss Monica and her equally pudgy ex-boy friend now bewail.
The Boy President and the ditzy valley girl pursued their relationship in the White House. As I watched Larry pose his questions to this vacuous bundle of nerves I was reminded of all the other White House interns and other female White House staff whom my colleagues and I at The American Spectator had by 1998 identified as Clinton inamoratas. There were half a dozen interns alone. We interviewed several. They stayed off the record, but in time historians will chronicle the infantile revels. For though they were mere revels, they were the essence of the Clinton administration.
As that historic government recedes into history, one fact is already towering over it. The most important achievement of the Clinton administration was covering up the Boy President’s many Lewinskys. As that modern-day Rabelaisian masterpiece, The Starr Report, makes clear, his administration was no more effective at its coverups than at apprehending terrorists.
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