Dear Big Daddy,
That which destroys me, strengthens me.
— Ashley Alexandra Dupre
Dear Easy (for you to say),
My favorite headline to come out of all this was “Spitzer Linked to Hooker Probe.” Well, yes, and it was telling him what to do. To get any more Freudian, you’d need a banana and a cigar fighting over a Georgia O’Keefe painting. If only the editors hadn’t turned down “Lil’ Governor Invades MySpace.”
If former New York Guv Eliot Spitzer had ever chatted up some of the drug kingpins he prosecuted while he was attorney general, the better ones might have given him a helpful bit of advice: Never indulge in your own inventory. Spitzer’s trademark was busting hubristic white-collar hypocrites, including several involved in prostitution rings. Ergo, don’t do what you bust.
Now I was hardly as careful as I should have been about who I “visited the Mayflower” with during my long career, but it was a point of pride that I never once paid for my trysts. For one thing, seduction was a good way to keep my skills primed between re-election campaigns. Though it kind of makes sense that modern politicians, conditioned to think of campaign donations as more important than your ability to work a room and connect to an audience, would be inclined to “throw money at the problem.”
My point is, Spitzer could have survived a mere affair. I’m sure there were plenty of perky young law students out there he would have loved to have remove his briefs. Though they may have looked more like Monica Lewinsky and less like yourself, “Kristen.” Heck, I’m kind of jealous that he knows what you can do with those big mannish hands of yours and I don’t. Maybe he was trying to tell his political ally, Hillary Clinton, “One cheatin’ man in your life at least has some standards.”
But I do have a few issues with the Emperor’s Club Website, which listed you at 105 pounds. Sorry, Ash, but at 5’5”, the girl I saw in those MySpace photos was a couple breadboxes heavier than that Twiggy weight class. I don’t mean this as an insult — Big Daddy prefers his ladies in letterbox format — but it does make me wonder if, say, those women really had all those advanced college degrees they advertised online. Not to mention why they bothered. An Oxford degree on that kind of working girl is sort of like the articles in Playboy. No one’s going to pay three grand an hour to have their mind stimulated.
And of course we’re all wondering who else donated to the horizontal scholarship fund. Is Rudy Giuliani Client #9/11? (da-dum-ching).
I was also pretty amused by the diamond-based rating system. My goal was always to get the most action possible while buying the fewest diamonds. Maybe that sort of irony was what they were going for, though it could just be the price was about he same. Anyhow, I’m guessing a few of you boys reading right now have hauled out the “diamonds are killing Africa” argument at key times (and been denied that other type of “diamonds” in return).
In my day, we philanderers mainly had to worry about keeping the buns out of the oven and the pox off our rhymes-with. Our partners in panky didn’t want to get busted, either. These days, some chippies see getting caught as a career move. If high schools can police their students’ MySpace pages, you’d think a high-priced brothel could do the same.
Now everyone is saying this could be your big break. You’ve got a good voice, even if it sounds like your backing band consists of Super Mario and Donkey Kong (but hey, I’m old, so what do I know?). You were certainly ready. The MySpace page, the streaming audio, the many fetching photos — not to mention the kind of life story that some people make up to get on the bestseller lists. So damaged, so vulnerable, so stayin’ strong … and so synonymous with sex that your grandkids will know about it. Your beauty may fade, but the stench of scandal could keep you marketable for years.
If I’m being hard on you, “Kristen,” it’s because your indignation over becoming famous rubbed me the wrong way. You claimed you’re not a public figure. Uh, sorry, you now have the exact same level of name recognition as the former second-most-famous governor in the country. It doesn’t get much more public than that. And you really ought to have known the path you were going down. If you didn’t recognize client #9, here’s hoping you don’t