There's many a dry eye in New York politics today as the founder and CEO For Life of the Upright Prosecutors' Brigade, Eliot Spitzer, is busted in a prostitution ring. Apparently many of his colleagues on both sides of the aisle feel that this could not have happened to a more deserving individual.
Now call me a moral relativist, but I simply don't care that he was paying for sex. It's not The Oldest Profession for nothing, darlings. Better men than him have remunerated a lady for some of her evening. I do object to a few things, however: using his position to hide the financial transactions, being a worthless husband to the clearly distraught Mrs. Spitzer (can you imagine the very practical concerns regarding disease and whatnot?), and for being an unmitigated hypocrite as regards right and wrong.
One article on this story said, "It's not the sex; it's the money," perhaps in homage to the Repuglicans refrain during the Lewinsky fiasco, "it's not the sex, it's the lying!"
Oh please. It's the sex. And perhaps a little bit of the lying. And the money. But for me, and perhaps for anyone who had to deal with him on a daily basis, it is most definitely the breathtaking hypocrisy.
**And in a further note, why do political wives all consent to go stand on stage with the man who has just humiliated them? If my husband ever got caught with his pants down, I'd tell him to get his damn girlfriend to go stand on stage and look supportive because I'd be at home throwing his sh*t on the lawn, changing the locks, and finding an attorney who'd ensure he'd see his daughter again just as soon as she turned 18. Stiff Upper Lip my a**. I'd say that "stiff" is what got him into the trouble he's in, and it ain't gonna get him out. What's more, NONE of my girlfriends would have allowed it. I can name two specifically who would have dragged me out of that press conference by my hair to ensure my own dignity in the face of such betrayal. Mrs. Spitzer seems let down on all counts in this lamentable situation, and that strikes me as the sad other-side-of-the-coin to the rampant schadenfreude attending Spitzer's downfall.