A Small Victory

I just wanted to fall asleep. It had been a trying day and I crawled into bed at 10:30 because I just wanted the day to end. I finally drifted off but a surreal dream about Spiderman fighting Superman over a dinner check forced me to bolt upright in bed. The room was dark. The projection alarm clock beamed the time onto the wall like an ominous warning. 12:00. Midnight. Here come the vampires and werewolves. Good thing I had my silver bullets and garlic handy. But then....I thought I heard a voice. A high-pitched, wailing voice not unlike that of a man having his balls squeezed. I strained to listen as it became clear the voice was singing. My god, was that John Travolta? Saaaandy, Saaaaandy, why-yi-yi-yi-yi.....Oh Sandy.... Yes, my restless night and subsequent nightmares about John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John engaging in a menage a trois with Bill Clinton while Sandy Berger furtively stuck notes from Epstein's mother down his pants are all courtesy of Sandy "Big Pants" Berger. This, folks, is why you should not read the news just before going to bed. I've read a dozen different interpetations thus far about Mr. Berger's absent mindedness (it's ok to read the news in the morning unless, of course, you plan on falling asleep at your desk. Which some people do with regularity). In all the accounts, one thing is left unclear: Did Berger stuff those notes in his pockets or, as most of the stories lead you to believe, did he actually stuff the notes down his pants? Because there's a big difference between the two. And this matters more than the argument over whether Sa-a-a-ndy was Clinton's adviser or is Kerry's adviser. When I was a young juvenile delinquent (made so by peer pressure from my cousins and not of my own doing because nothing was ever, ever my fault, you see) we often hung out a place called PlayWorld. Well, hung around outside is more like it. You know, loitering. PlayWorld was a huge toy store, much like Toys R Us, but without the talking giraffe. And without very good security. My friend Patrick liked to boast that he could steal anything from anywhere and never get caught. So we challenged him to steal a skateboard from PlayWorld. Patrick, true to his word, made his way out of the store with a skateboard stuffed down his pants. He just found the smallest skateboard he could and stuck it down the back of his right pant leg and proceeded to hobble out of the store as if he were a child gimp. Unfortunately for Patrick, his father pulled up just as he was unloading the skateboard from his pant leg. When Patrick tried to explain that he was just "umm...holding it there because umm...I didn't feel like carrying it....", the father smacked him in the head and said: Patrick, you are a liar. And not a very good one. Because no man would put a skateboard down his pants unless he was trying to hide it. Pants are not crime accessories, young man! And then he marched Patrick back into the store and we never saw our skateboard stealing friend again. You do see where I'm headed with this, right? Patrick's father had a point. Who would stuff something down their pants if they weren't attempting to steal that something? That's what pockets are for. So, obviously, the way to get to the bottom of this whole story is to determine whether or not Sandy Berger (ahhhh, there it goes again....Saaaaandy, some daaay....) actually put the notes down his pants or in his pants pocket. That will tell you whether or not the notes were taken with nefarious purposes or not. Then again, I suppose that depends on what your definition of taken is. Do you mean taken as in taken out of the building knowingly and secretively, by the stuffing of the pants, or taken as in taken out of the building accidently after absent mindedly folding up papers real small and putting them in your pockets? Ah, you see the dilemma there. Either way, it looks like Saa-aa-andy pulled a fast one. But fear not, Mr. Berger. I have a way out of this for you. It's called the Greg Brady defense. All you have to do, Sandy, is stand in front of your accusers and say "Those were not my pants. I must have gotten the mixed up with the pants of another person on the commission. Hey, have you checked Ben-Veniste yet? I bet he's wearing my pants! That bastard!" And then have Johnny Cochrane come to your aid with a measuring tape and shout "If the pants don't fit, you must acquit!" If anything, it will distract them. This just in. Pants jokes are out. No, wait. They're in. Anyhow, I'm still having a hard time getting that damn song out of my head and I suppose the more I write about this story, the harder it will be to purge my soul of John Travolta's singing, not to mention his unspeakable acts with Bill and Olivia. I wonder if Saaaaandy took notes on that one? God, I hope not. Also, may I suggest these as a nice Christmas gift for Sandy? Just in case he gets the urge to stuff his pants again. ___ Lots'o'links here.