Prosecutors
lose the battle over Lewinsky
"I want you to know that I care for you and I
love you," Oklahoma Republican Steve Largent told
the President, "and that's one of the mysteries of
Jesus."
I'll say. They were both at the Hilton for the annual
National Prayer Breakfast, one of those opportunities to
flaunt his faith that Bill Clinton never passes up.
The President's religion is yet another mystery: in
one of the most striking examples of his ability to
"compartmentalise", he strolled out of his
church after an Easter service, waved his trusty Bible
to the crowds, and then went back to the Oval Office to
observe the resurrection with Monica in a more personal
sense.
Mr Clinton is always talking about "my
God", and you can't help feeling his God is a kind
of Vegas version of those Graeco-Roman types: a
celestial lounge act with cigar and martini, unwinding
in the hot tub with the angelic hostesses, the sorta God
who knows that what counts is not how much you forgive
but how much you've got to be forgiven for.
At yesterday's ecumenical breakfast, Bill Clinton's
God took His place with more traditional
Judaeo-Christian-Islamic models. The President was
joined by the nation's highest-rated radio scold, Dr
Laura, author of a new book on the Ten Commandments and
hence reluctant to concede the Clinton position that at
least three of them don't "rise to the level"
of impeachment.
Dr Laura's catchphrase is: "I am my kid's
mom" (if you want to learn more about her, there
are some nude photos on the Internet).
The event was chaired by Congressman Largent, a
rising Republican star who was chosen to give the
official response to Mr Clinton's State of the Union
address and laid out a compelling GOP platform - he
talked about country singer Vince Gill's Christmas album
and revealed that he'd been raised in a single-parent
household. Mr Largent's catchphrase is: "I am my
mom's kid."
Other speakers included the President ("I am my
intern's mentor") and the Vice-President ("I
am my President's Vice-President"). Also present
were both the man Mr Clinton kept waiting in the outer
office while he finished up with Monica, Yasser Arafat
("I am your President's 10 o'clock
appointment"), and the first Democratic Senator to
criticise his leader, Joe Lieberman ("I am my
party's only supporter to date of a bipartisan Finding
of Fact resolution").
"Lord, hear his prayers," beseeched Senator
Lieberman. "Help him with the work he's doing with
his family and his spiritual advisers."
Mr Clinton's certainly been doing a lot of work with
his spiritual advisers. In December, they issued a press
statement about which particular Psalm he'd be reading
in private during the final House impeachment vote.
The President's work with his family is less obvious.
At the prayer breakfast, he didn't so much as brush the
sleeve of the First Lady, to his right. On the other
hand, he couldn't keep his paws off Mr Largent, to his
left. He patted his shoulder, rubbed his back, nudged
his elbow, so relentlessly tactile that you wonder why
Dr Laura didn't remind him of one of the few
Commandments he hasn't yet broken ("Thou shalt not
covet thy neighbour's ass").
On Capitol Hill, received wisdom was that Republican
prosecutors, reduced to begging for just one witness,
didn't have a prayer.
Asked a routine question, Representative George
Gekas, previously one of the meekest of House
impeachment managers, burst into song: "I know
nothing!" he trilled, to the tune of West Side
Story's I Feel Pretty. "I know nothing! I know
nothing and nothing and . . ." As the Congressman's
arm sliced the air with the bravura of Shirley Bassey, a
passing staffer muttered, "You really need to get
out of here."
Poor Mr Gekas and his House colleagues. There's a
place for them, somewhere a place for them, but it isn't
in the Senate.
Meanwhile, the endless search for novelty acquittals
continues. Utah Republican Orrin Hatch is touting a new
bipartisan compromise proposal called Adjournment Plus
where the Senate would move a motion to adjourn the
trial indefinitely plus they'd . . . well, that bit
still has to be worked out.
Still, it does have a certain symmetry: the trial,
like the President with Monica, would stop before
reaching "completion". Perhaps for that
reason, Adjournment Plus is thought to have more chance
than rival proposals like Censure Super-Size, Conviction
Lite or Finding Of Fact Early-Bird Special. All of which
boil down to: "If the polls don't fit, you must
acquit."
Like some terrible cable TV subscription, no matter
how many Premium Options you select, they're all showing
the same programme: you can zap ever more furiously from
the Adjournment Channel to the Censure Network to the
Finding Of Fact Superstation, but you still wind up with
another lame episode of The Comeback Kid Rides Again.
4
February 1999: Comment: Monica means business
3
February 1999: Comment: New day but the same shadow over
Clinton
30
January 1999: Comment: This time, No really does mean
Yes
27
January 1999: Comment: Run for your life, it's Queen
Thong
