It turns out that New York Governor Eliot Spitzer is the worst kind of politician: One who can’t get sex without paying for it. Isn’t his name the first clue? Sorority girls must have giggled uncontrollably when hearing it at Princeton keg parties. Even with a title like Governor, it couldn’t have been easy for Eliot (snicker) Spitzer (Give me a break).
The Hangover is not opposed to legislators blowing off steam as long as it is with another consenting adult. After all, politicians can be under a lot of stress and in need of release. Given the fat-headedness one must possess to believe that thousands or millions of people will vote for them, it’s reasonable to expect such egos might need stroking in other ways, too. That doesn’t mean those politicians lack the aptitude for running a state or leading a country. Getting caught up with paid-for hookers sure casts some doubts, though.
In 1988, Gary Hart, the most progressive and insightful candidate in the presidential race, had his primary bid implode when he was caught cheating with Donna Rice (not your average bimbo) on a boat fittingly called “Monkey Business.” At the time, The Hangover was a resident of New Hampshire and voting in the all-important first in the nation primary. A pre-primary favorite, Hart’s numbers vanished faster than dollar bills in a strip club. But as Hart remained the best candidate in the race regarding policy and platform, The Hangover voted for him anyway. I shocked a reporter doing an exit poll by answering “Gary Hart” when she asked who I had supported. When she asked why, I added, “Because he stands for everything I believe in.” Surprisingly, the reporter was not interested in having dinner with The Hangover that night–or any other night.
At first, one might be inclined to give Spitzer some credit. He’s loaded and was spending his own money as he saw fit. He wasn’t driving around picking up transvestites like former A’s pitcher Dave Stewart. He wasn’t getting over on a same-sex, seventeen year-old Congressional page like Gary Studds. Consider that Hugh Grant got nabbed with Hollywood streetwalker Divine Brown, and his girlfriend at the time was Elizabeth Hurley. The quality of Spitzer’s chosen escorts eclipsed even those that Charlie Sheen corralled in his Heidi Fleiss days. And, apparently, no blue dresses were harmed in the making of this scandal.
The Hangover has done some investigative reporting. The Emperor’s Club VIP web site is as of this writing currently down, either in hiding or bludgeoned by rich bastards in a state of over-excitement. However, we unearthed some Club pages here. Screen shots of the lingerie clad escorts offered tasteful Playboy-ish poses with hidden faces. The girls are in technical terms, hot. What The Hangover found next was unsettling.
The escorts’ pictures were accompanied by some disturbing descriptions: They consisted of the “playful and sensuous” cliches and “vivacious and agreeable” bullshit. For up to $5,500 an hour, the prospective John should get more than standard Playmate of the Month patter. It only got worse as favorite perfumes, chocolates, flowers, and cocktails were also listed. So the wealthy client not only has to pony up for sex plus tip, he’s expected to shop for gifts like a nervous boyfriend. The names of the models were also disappointing: Anais, Maya, Marina, Josephine, etc..,. For that kind of dough, one would think that a guy could get some good stripper-ease like Brandi, Candy, or Destiny.
It’s that kind of information which caused The Hangover to lose respect for Governor Spitzer. No capable leader would get fleeced like that.
Of course, The Hangover is not an expert in these matters (Are you reading Mrs. Hangover?). For a professional view, The Hangover recommends Heidi Fleiss’s well qualified and thoughtful opinion.