Read My Lips - the blog

Episode No. 11

OK, time to get comfortable, put your feet up and get ready for another glimpse into the life of your old friend Wicked Willie.

Wicked Willie lives on the upper floor of a lavish mansion on a secluded estate. Once the leader of the free world, he fell from grace as the woman who stood behind him walked over his back on her climb to success. Now a mere disbarred attorney, he is often left alone, with just the company of Stu and Benji, his two federally-assigned bodyguards. He just sits around playin' pocket pool, and allows his thoughts to drift on some of the more important things in life. Here are his thoughts. Maybe you will get a chuckle or two and maybe you will even agree with parts of what he has to say.

Friday, September 5, 2003

I am sendin' this in from sunny California: the land of movie stars, swimmin' pools and Hollywood. They do seem to be a bit short of skanks out here, though, as most of the gals here done been to the detail shop, where they were inflated, airbrushed and dyed to resemble that fabled Barbie Doll. But enough with the bimbo report, let me tell ya why I am in California.

It seems that my good friend Gray Davis is in a bigger pickle that I was when I was caught with my willie in Monica's mouth, so to speak. He is scramblin' for his political career and thought as I probably had the most experience diggin' myself out of a political morass that I might be able to advise him as to how to save his butt from bein' kicked out to the curb.

I guess I was so busy playin' with my willie that I had not really kept up with the recall fiasco, but man if every man, woman, and nut case in California is not runnin' for the governor's seat. I am not quite sure what caused this fiasco to come into play, because the economy sucks all over, and we know it is the fault of the current leader of the free world. And the power problems were part of a Right Wing Conspiracy to make the Democrats look bad. It is surely not like he got caught with his willie hangin' out. For a Democrat, Gray Davis is a choir boy.

I assessed the situation and decided maybe the choir boy thin' was the problem. I pulled Gary into the corner and said, Look Gary, you are in some deep shit here and it is time to play hardball. Tell the people of California that you are gay. You know how these people love gay people. No way they are gonna vote a gay man out of office. It is totally un-Californian.

Gray looked at me strangely after I gave him that information. Are ya sure? he asked.

I am as sure of that as Al Gore is that he invented the Internet.

OK, then, if you say to tell ‘em that I am gay, I am gonna tell ‘em that I am gay. Thanks Bill.

With that situation solved, I went down to Hollywood and Vine lookin' for a good skanky woman to give my willie a workout. I thought I was doin' pretty good with one of them, but Stu and Benji, with their damn crew cuts, blue coats and shined shoes seemed to make most of them uneasy. I finally gave up and came back to the room. As Gray is pickin' up the tab, I think I will stay another night or two here at the Beverly Hilton. Say, wasn't that Arnold Schwarzenegger? I wonder if he would give me his autograph? I really liked him in those RoboCop movies.

Well, I wish I had a good ride, so ya'll come on back here if'n ya need what I got to give, ya hear?