High life
Dodgers and phonies
Taki
he worst traffic jam since the French army retreated en masse and in a terrible hurry back in 1940 took place last Monday in the Big Bagel. The War Hero came to town on a fund-raiser and, if that wasn't enough, he then went politicking in Rocke- feller Center and shopping in Saks Fifth Avenue. Three major avenues and tens of streets were closed during the rush hour in order to accommodate the imperial presi- dency, personified by a draft-dodger, elect- ed as a populist who eats junk food at Big Mac.
Now, I understand that the President of the United States must be protected and all that, but the man with the aquiline nose and graceful thighs only showed his true colours by pulling this stunt. To hell with everyone who works and needs to do pre- Christmas shopping and then get home. The Bagel is a safe Democratic city, and the people who voted for the draft-dodger mostly don't work anyway. Others do it for them. Clinton has hired more people to serve his presidency than either Reagan or Bush, and is the most imperial President since that other great liar and flim-flam man, LBJ. It is as if Nancy Reagan came to town while Ronnie was President, and closed down the city while she shopped until she dropped. The draft-dodger is Nancy's equivalent, and he should come in quietly and let us get on with our lives.
There are two sides to everything, and Clinton's on both of them. He goes to Hol- lywood where the richest phonies and creeps like David Geffen, Barbra (disgust- ing) Streisand, Michael Ovitz and Marvin Davis kick in millions to his war chest and tells them during dinner to put a cap on violence. Then he praises Royz n the Hood, a black film so violent that dozens were killed during its showing inside the theatres. He even tells the greedy ones 'not to stop titillating or frightening the public'. Somebody has to wash this man's mouth out, preferably with carbolic acid.
A couple of weeks ago the draft-dodger met with the artful dodger, Salman Rushdie, and made a big deal out of Rushdie's plight. (In my not so humble opinion, Rushdie is lucky. He's built him- self an enormous standard of living, which he wouldn't otherwise have, travels in pri- vate jets, and feels safer than most of us do who live in big cities. And the repellent phoney is complaining.) Then he pretend- ed that the meeting was not really a meet- ing, but that he had actually bumped into Rushdie in the White House. Oy vey, the walls grow hair and yet this clown won't stop.
And speaking of phonies, the best yet is the mother of River Phoenix, the heroin addict who took too much and killed him- self two months ago. She said that her son was a recreational drug user, and that 'drug abuse is a symptom of an unfeeling, materi- alistic, success-oriented world where the feelings of young people are not seen as important'. She also claimed that part of River's problems were due to pollution and the ozone levels.
River Phoenix was an adult, responsible for his actions, and was also extremely materialistic. The sums he fetched could feed whole towns for years. Heart Phoenix, his mother, is a typical example of left-wing newspeak. Instead of telling the idiotic young not to fall for the drug trap, she uses her son's death to score points against a system that allows her to spout such bull- shit. It is the first time that I have not felt sorry for a mother who has lost a child. No wonder Uncle Sam is coming apart.
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