I hadn’t planned on commenting on news stories here, but having just read the early report on our Governor’s involvement in a prostitution ring a day after watching The Wire series finale, it seemed appropriate, for some reason, to write about politics.
I hope he’s a pimp! With hoes! He probably ordered hoes to do gross things, like eat expensive food off his chest and blow members of his staff. Some of his hoes are probably men. Young boys, even. He most likely slapped some around, too. With his penis. He’d dick-slap ‘em while saying “Stop crying, or I’ll really give you something to cry about!” Our governor. Governor Eliot Spitzer of New York State.
From what The Wire taught me about political career-ending stories like this, at least a few of the Governor’s underlings must of known, long ago, that their boss was a pimp—a pimp!—but didn’t tell anyone out of fear of being “done” or “buried” (aka fired/demoted to a humiliating civil servant job). Forget being hush-hush about Hamsterdam. Imagine if you had to stay tight-lipped after seeing the Governor order a meth-addicted woman to have sex with a group of drunk men, take a substantial cut of the money, give her some meth to snort, beat her while she’s high on meth, have sex with her bruised body, and then cradle her while saying “No one else out here loves you but me. No one else but me.”
More to come about this mess, possibly. Maybe even an entire ‘totum season about Spitzer being a pimp.
Update: More facts came out, and, no, he’s not a pimp, just a client. I’d really wanted him to be a pimp.