think about it
think about it
OK guys, election day is over. Let’s get serious for a moment. Dig down deep to your most primitive carnal thoughts. How cool is it that Bill Clinton was getting hummers in the Oval Office? Think about it. Be honest with yourself (you don’t have to tell anyone). The silent majority can stay silent. How cool?
What heterosexual male (or non-, but let someone else cover that) hasn’t fantasized about getting serviced in outrageous places? We’ve all been in or heard the places: an airplane, the fifty-yard line, a taxi, a club, the zoo, a theater, the bathroom during a family dinner, a hospital room, a church, etc, etc. But the Oval Office? How many thought they would ever come into the place, much less cum in the place? Think about it.
Danger has always driven excitement to unprecedented heights, and doesn’t excitement elevate good sex to unbelievable sex? When you think back to your greatest sexcapades—worrying your girlfriend would walk around a stack of books while some other girl flipped the pages of your hardcover. Or at the office Christmas party—while the Xerox machine pumped out copies, a female co-worked pumped you. The very real possibility of being caught drove you crazy as anything. Think about it.
Forget that the President of the United States is the most watched person on the face of the earth, or that Bill Clinton is the most scrutinized living human being of all-time with political enemies and world media everywhere. What about the office? The sophistication and variety of cameras, video recorders, audio bugs, and hidden gun barrels in it probably match anything out of an old Ian Fleming novel. What about in an emergency when a cabinet member, security advisor, or a wife could come barreling in? This is the sea Bill Clinton had his dinghy out for a sail in. Think about it.
His critics say it’s inappropriate activity for someone sitting next to the red button. Do they think he’s flaring his arms widely at the moment of detonation? As a connoisseur and player of jazz music, Mr. Clinton knows how to stay cool with his instrument. Personally, I want a calm, relaxed person sitting next to that red button, not someone with a lot of pent-up frustration. Remember how good you felt after a Hoovering. Even if you didn’t smoke, you lit up a cigarette. A cigar? Think about it.
Let’s give him his due. We don’t need Monica Lewinsky to tell us William Jefferson Clinton has cojones. The next time old pals get together to reminisce about past experiences and play “Can You Top This?”, remember that none will be able to surpass our forty-second President. Unless . . .wonder what gravita- tional pull would be like on our rocket booster . . . think about it.
Juan C. GrauNew York, New York 1998