A Few Lessons and Observations Related To Eliot Spitzer:
1. Anyone who knows anything about recent New York politics knew that hell was gonna break loose the moment that Governor Eliot Spitzer (or his "aides") had Republican Senate President Joseph Bruno followed by state troopers in an attempt to discredit the longtime state politico. You knew that Bruno, who has accumulated an almost absurd amount of power over his thirty years in Albany, was gonna rip apart Spitzer with all the force of a crazed wolverine tearing into a limping moose.
Republican Senator Marty Golden said last year about Spitzer, in a remark that was foreshadowing in that scary "shit, they knew something" way, "There is a seedy side to this governor." Or as Baruch College Professor Doug Muzzio commented after Spitzer fired the aides who had Bruno followed, "Now that the proverbial blood is in the water, people are going to be looking for things."
So, yeah, this whole thing stinks of selective prosecution through the Edwardian-era Mann Act and political games and all that bullshit, but, at the end of the day, Spitzer does seem to have been paying prostitutes to fuck him.
The lesson here: If you're gonna lay small animal traps in the forest, you better make damn sure there's no bear traps in your backyard.
2. Nobody ought to give a fuck about why Spitzer fucked whores or what he did with them. For all we know, his wife could have given an additional statement yesterday where she said, "I gave Eliot permission to visit whores as long as he never brought them home. I mean, seriously, look at him. Would you do him? And Eliot wanted me choke him with a belt while I repeatedly kicked him in his balls as he sat on a ten-inch dildo until he spitzered my tits with jizz that he would lick off my nipples pretending to be my child, and, really, while I'd agree to two out of three of those things at any one time, all of it together was just a little more acrobatic than I could handle. Besides, all that crystal meth I have to do to get through the day leaves me as dry as a New Yorker cartoon from the 1930s." After all, the hooker did say that Spitzer wanted to do things that might not be "safe."
But it seems that if you have, you know, used your office when you were attorney general to go after tour operators who arrange for people to go to countries where they can easily get laid by hookers, as well as a prostitution ring fronted as an escort service, then there's not a whole lot of wiggle room on whether or not it's cool that you like the ladies of the evening, no matter how much cleaner or more expensive they may be than the whores of Staten Island or Thailand. Call this the Vitter Rule of Sexual Hypocrisy.
Lesson: If you really think prostitution should be legal and you happen to be in a position where you can do something about it, then maybe you ought to, you know, do something about it so you can fuck all the hookers you want. But until the law's changed, it's against the law.
3. None of this is a statement on whether or not Spitzer should stay in office. He has officially fucked the goat. But many a goatfucker has stayed around. Call this the Vitter Rule of Short-Term Memory.
4. To answer a question he had, the Rude Pundit called a prostitute friend. Is there a qualitative difference between a three-diamond whore, who, at the Emperor Club, went for $1000 an hour, and a seven-diamond whore, who goes for $5500 an hour? Does a seven-diamonder have, like, a hydraulic pussy that'll squeeze your cock to the point where you'll experience pleasure you've never had before? The hooker equivalent of space flight? Her answer was, "The same reason people buy ugly paintings by famous artists or stay in penthouse hotel rooms for a night. Because they can. Status, you know."
And she assured me that, for only a couple hundred bucks, she could make the Rude Pundit experience weightlessness. Time will tell.