the thing I forgot to write about

[rm]

Today's New York headlines were all about Bill Clinton on the subject of Monica Lewinsky. I don't read the tabloids (we don't code them at work), so I didn't see the full articles, but both the New York Post and the Daily News let us all know that Clinton had finally explained why he slept with Monica. "I did it, because I could," he said.

In the whole long Bill and Monica saga I was never angry at him, and never really thought badly of her. I didn't find her ugly, fat, scandalous, stupid or really anything other than just a little bit pitiful, as most women are at that age. Certainly, very few people in her position would have said no. And many would at least have mentally entertained the idea of pursuing what did eventually occur.

I found the whole thing useful -- it presented an easy way for me to talk about the things that interest me in writing -- which are the small events that happen to us all that none of us ever talk about. The feeling of revelation people experience when they find out they are ordinary, is deeply deeply compelling to me in art, because it is a necessarily small tradgedy. Bill and Monica presented the perfect opportunity to explain this in an elevator pitch.

When the vote on the impeachment thing happened, I remember watching it sitting on the floor of my Brooklyn 1-bedroom where I had the crazy self-hating swinger landlords. I was in the midst of a terrible time personally, and this bizarre national affair was a surreal punctuation, which I never took personally, again, because I wasn't mad at any one.

Well today I was mad. Mad at that, "because I could." "Because I could," makes Monica dissapear. She had her mouth on his dick and she wasn't even in the goddamn room as far as he was concerned. He didn't have to love her, like her or respect her. But he had to think she was hot, or that the situation was funny, or have spent half a goddamn second wondering what it would be like to know her if he were only twenty-three and an intern too. But instead, Clinton had to say, "because I could."

And it's that stupid, really extraordinarily boring sort of hubris that changes what should be a long dead discussion from whether Monica's teeth were too big to whether she was pathetic and desperate or not.

Of course she was. Of course she was. But she had giant brass balls to do what she did, as dumb as it was, as sloppy as it was, and now she's just some pathetic little girl he never even noticed because he as letting her (_letting her_ -- think about that phrase) suck his dick, because he could. Because he was bored. Because she didn't really ever exist at all.

I dunno man. Bill Clinton is probably the greatest orator I'll see in my lifetime. And I've never cared whether he was virtuous or not. But Bill Clinton was a guy we celebrated because when he shook your hand on the campaign line, you were for a second the only person in the world.

Which is what makes the non-existence of Monica utterly chilling in my mind. And offensive. To all of us.

Even Dear Abby often says confession is an act of selfishness. Bill Clinton certainly proves that out on this one. At least he's smart enough to know it.

Comments

[lolliejean.livejournal.com]

But Bill Clinton was a guy we celebrated because when he shook your hand on the campaign line, you were for a second the only person in the world.

Which is what makes the non-existence of Monica utterly chilling in my mind. And offensive. To all of us.

I remember my mom, a totally non politically oriented woman, saying "he's the antichrist" after watching him charm a crowd.

When she said it I felt the click inside and keyed into that gut level knowing I'd experienced in regards to every charismatic sociopath I've ever come in contact with. (And I've known a few.)

And so. Bill confirmed that for me with that one short sentance.

[labellerose.livejournal.com]

You said a lot of things I've been thinking, probably far better than I could have. Thank you.

[deslea.livejournal.com]

I'm still trying to figure out what I think about his account of it.

On one hand, I want to think he said it as a way of taking sole responsibility - that by eliminating anything to do with what Monica was like or anything she did (by making her disappear, as you put it) he's exhonerating her. Or that he's attempting to spare his family by not discussing any feelings directly about her. Or something.

But on the other, I think of the "that woman" remark. And then I look at his words now.

I have a lot of time for Monica Lewinsky. I think she's such a survivor of such a dehumanising experience, not only at the hands of Bill Clinton (although certainly that) but also at the hands of her nation. And she's come through it with such good humour and grace, considering everything that's happened. And God knows whether she loved, or liked, or was fond, or was just plain power-struck by him (and hell, how many women wouldn't be?), but she just...didn't deserve this, just when she's probably starting to heal.

[aynatonal.livejournal.com]

I'm *so* developing a bit of a girlcrush on you. Excellent post.

[papersky.livejournal.com]

The thing that absolutely horrified me was when the papers published a picture from a security camera of Bill and Monica coming back into a building from lunch. They were smiling at the camera to be recognised, and they were clearly together. This was published well on into all the scandal and details and so on. A friend of mine said "You know, to look at that picture, you'd think they liked each other." And that was the first time I'd thought of the possibility that they might not, that anybody who wasn't desperate enough to do it for money might suck someone's dick without them liking each other.

"Because I could", is just... ick.

On the other hand, scumbag as he personally may have been, at least he didn't revoke civil rights for visitors or randomly invade countries he didn't like.

[lieveling.livejournal.com]

wonderful post. you presented your thoughts in such an eloquent manner.

<3, hayley

[lllvis.livejournal.com]

yowza...

Much applause from here, you made a great point.

Out of interest though, there's a point I'd like to bring up. Knowing we have political difference, I kindly ask you to keep that in mind as being behind the tone of my questions.

You apparently believe him when he says "Because I could." Do you? I try very hard not to get swept up into the automatic discounting of anything he says as being a lie, but part of being that great orator is knowing what to say. What could he have said that would have been any better? And with his book coming out, it was certain he was going to have to face such questions, is there a (pardon me for this) safer answer?

If he is the manic glory-hound he is oft portrayed to be, doesn't this fall right into pattern? Self-promotion above all else?

Recalling the whole 'scandal' at the time, I remember distinctly thinking there was only one thing he had to say, that would have scuttled everybody's other attempts to try him, impeach him, or whatever...and that was he could have just said "Yep, that happened."

Now...plenty of people would still have been upset, but there was nowhere to go with it with that response. But instead, he did the finger-wagging "I did not have sexual relations with that woman" bit on National television, and worked himself into a corner. That's just not something I thought Clinton was terribly susceptible to.

He also had that (IMHO) weak attempt at calling his impeachment a...what was it...moment of glory? I find that hard to believe, even for Clinton!

And now, as you say, he has entirely relegated Monica to complete floozy status because it might as well have been anybody...who it was no longer matters even a little bit, and he has made it all about him.

Again. (sorry, couldn't resist!)

What say you?

[rm.livejournal.com]

Well, for starts, I don't think it matters if he's telling the truth on this one or not. He's an exceptionally intelligent man, and exceptionally skilled with words no matter what you think of him, so regardless of the truth of his statement, I believe he knows _exactly_ why he's saying it, and I'm offended pretty much equally regardless of its truth -- although if it's a lie it also reflects more negatively on us as a culture, because chances are this is somehow what a lot of us wanted to hear (I mean, the man polled more than any other president ever, he has a decent if peculiar grasp of public sentiment).

And of course he's a manic glory hound (I think the manic part is actually the most accurate of those words, as an aside). He wanted to be president, he was president. How could he be anything else? He's also a man pathologically driven by the need for absolution and will say anything to get it, which I find far more pathetic than anything else (it's also why I believe he painted himself into a corner -- I believe the whole sorry mess provided him with some peculliar that his mind learned to need along the way).

Anyway, I'd be fine with him relegating Monca to floozy status. If he'd said, "you know, it was a damn trashy thing to do and we both thought it was funny and I've no idea what we were thinking." Or "You know, she made me an offer it was hard to refuse." Whatever. I'd far rather she be a tramp than invisible.

[lllvis.livejournal.com]

Ok!

Again, great points made. Thanks!