Cowboy Confessional

I promised myself I would not gloat when the news broke that New York Governor Eliot Spitzer was caught with his pants down in a virtual brothel.

So I break a promise. Horsewhip me. Which may be what Spitzer asked various chippies to do to him.

Spitzer has long been the bane of people who favor fair play. In roles as attorney general, Spitzer conducted prosecutorial blackmail, using hordes of taxpayer funded lawyers to intimidate companies (guilty or not) into massive settlements. His evidence was typically weak, but his PR machine was strong. He played the role of “defender of the people” with populist overtones, while portraying companies that created jobs and paid salaries (including his) as robber barons and common criminals.

Seems Spitzer was with one with “common” traits.

The feds busted a hook shop in the District of Columbia. While pouring through the prostitution ring’s records, they stumbled across his cell telephone number and it was tied to a client ID — “client #9″ to be specific.

You must a long-term client, or a frequent fornicator to get a low client number like that.

Entertaining as it is when the mighty fall, it is ever more enjoyable when they have painted themselves in sanctimonious hues. But in Eliot’s case it is not surprising. Spitzer has long been a man for whom ruthless exercise of power fed his ego. Getting his way and doing what he damned well pleased only inflated his self-importance, and led him into an endless spiral. Like any other junkie, his power jones had to be sated, regardless of the risk.

Here is what I don’t get. His wife is a good looking woman, and from all accounts a likable person. A man who cheats on a good woman is despicable. A man who cavorts with courtesans and brings associated sins social diseases into his matrimonial bed is beneath contempt.

And a politician sleeping with prostitutes is merely redundant.

I could be amused by this for days were it not for his children. His wife bore him three adorable daughters, who like Chelsea Clinton before them, must now live with the shattered image of a father who is nothing more than a horn dog — an overgrown frat boy with an expense account. Daughters have a special relationship with their father’s that can endure the ages, but these young ladies have been robbed of that, and their father is the thief. They will never see him the same way again.

Spitzer only cared for his own self-image and power. His ego caused him to disgraced his office and destroy his family. This is another argument for reducing government, for it makes madmen who always need a fix … who always need more power.

So much for a self-described “progressive.”

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