Introducing Paula Jones

I’ll wager the vast majority of Millennials have never heard her.  Since Bill Clinton wants to be, at the minimum, a Co-President if Hillary wins, it’s relevant.  She was his, or so he said.

Paula was working as a receptionist at a hotel in Little Rock in 1991 when Governor of Arkansas Clinton spotted her.  She was 25, and attractive.  So he had a state trooper escort her to his hotel room, where he pulled down his pants and asked for sex.  A few years later she read an article In American Spectator that misrepresented what happened.  Her reputation damaged, she sued Clinton for sexual harassment.  Placed under oath and questioned, he committed perjury.   For this he was cited for contempt of court which cost him his law license in Arkansas.  He paid her $850,000 in an out of court settlement.

This same man now wants to go back to the White House.  His wife would be President, but I think calling him just a Co-President is selling him short.  He’d be pulling the strings.  Hillary is old and tired, and will rely on him to guide her.

I think the story of Paula Jones should be told in a sixty second TV spot.  You don’t have to mention Hillary’s name, though you’d want a lot of footage of her, with Bill.  People need to understand she wasn’t a victim in all this.  Paula Jones, and dozens of other vulnerable young women, were the victims.  Hillary was a facilitator, an enabler.  She and her team called these blameless women bimbos and trailer trash, even though they had done nothing wrong.  It was a real war on women, but the victims aroused no sympathy.  Poor Southern whites seldom do.  Towards the end of the ad you could have Clinton talking about how Hillary was his Co-President.

Paula Jones is no longer heard from.  If I could find her I’d like to talk to her.  Maybe she could be convinced to do a voice over in the ad, and be seen in the final shot.  I interviewed her lawyer on my radio show, even had R. Emmett Tyrell Jr., publisher of American Spectator, as a guest.  He was being accused of leading a vast right wing conspiracy, which I wanted to join.

I think, professionally done, this could be a powerful ad.  I can hear, in my mind, the shrieks of protest from the Clinton Machine.  If it was a hit we could follow up with one on Monica Lewinsky, or even Juanita Broderick, who claims Clinton raped her.  This could be a lot of fun.

Younger people, especially, really don’t know anything about Clinton.  They need education.  You could go after Hillary on a whole raft of scandals, but, politically, you’re on very dangerous ground when you attack a woman.  Women, and men too, really don’t like that.  It makes them uncomfortable.  But her Co-President is fair game.  I’ve got a year to sell this idea, get some money behind it.  Even if it doesn’t ever happen it’s fun to talk about.  And I can always come up with another one.  Something about Clinton stimulates my creative juices.  I really don’t like anything about this man.  He is the essence of a punk.  If I could play a role in sticking it to him I would be very happy.

Women are the key to success in politics, as in most things.  When I meet a politician in a social situation, I try to pay close attention to his wife.  When she talks, I listen.  Political wives, from Nancy Reagan on down, judge you not on your politics, but on your character.  And they’re not shy in telling their husbands what they think.  My wife always told me her mind, on this, and everything else for that matter.

On our first date she told me about her Porsche, and why she was working at Payless.  She was a full time student at Cal, living at home, and didn’t need a job.  Her parents wouldn’t buy her a Porsche, because the engine was in the rear.  So she took some money she had inherited and bought the damn thing herself.  She was working to pay back the principal on her inheritance.

I’d never known anyone who had an inheritance, much less a Porsche.  And she lived in a damn mansion in Piedmont, the ultra ritzy part of the East Bay.  She was tall, blonde, slender and very smart.  Oh, and she was beautiful.

After the movie we sat in a bar in Orinda, drinking beer, for close to two hours.  I’ve made some pitches in life, and some of them have been pretty good.

None better than that one.

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