Courting Monica

By Tony Kornheiser

Sunday, February 22, 1998; Page F01 

Where's Monica already?

I'm ready for her. We're all ready for her.

She's the grand jury's star witness. It's time for her oral presentation.
(Forgive me, a poor choice of words.)

Why shouldn't Monica talk to the grand jury? She told everybody else on
Earth she was having an affair with the president. She told her mother, for
heaven's sake. Doesn't that beat all? In my day a girl kept sex secrets from
her mother.

A letter came to my house addressed to: "Mr. T. Kornheiser or Current
Occupant," which starts out: "I'm Monica Lewinsky, and I've been
authorized to offer you 4.9 percent APR on a new Visa card -- and, by
the way, I'm boinking the president."

Others she e-mailed. Newsweek even printed some messages Monica
allegedly sent to serial tapist Linda Tripp. Monica refers to "the Big
Creep's" wife as "Babba," which may be the female version of "Bubba" --
or it may indicate Monica thinks Bill Clinton is married to Barbara Walters.

I'm tired of White House aides, Secret Service officers and presidential
scut boys parading in to testify. Like Steve Goodin, a Clinton aide
described in print as "tending to a variety of largely menial duties, like
carrying [the president's] coat, briefcase and water glass." Why bring in
that guy? Bring in the guy who carried the president's pants.

I'd like to hear more from Monica's mom, Marcia Lewis, but she won't be
testifying again anytime soon -- unless they get a dehumidifier in the
courtroom, because the air in there is just mangling her hair. And Kenneth
Starr probably won't be calling Monica's dad to testify, since Bernard
Lewinsky last week compared the special prosecutor to Joseph
McCarthy, the Spanish Inquisition and Adolf Hitler -- not exactly the
Three Tenors.

Hearing from Kathleen Willey might be fun. Suppose Willey arrived at
court disheveled, with her blouse untucked and her makeup smeared, and
it turned out she wasn't groped by anyone, that's just her look -- early
Madonna! (How great would a story like this be: "A high-level
administration source, speaking on the grounds of anonymity, said
yesterday that Kathleen Willey often pads through the White House with
hat-head, her shirttail hanging out and her lipliner off target. 'This babe must
get dressed in the dark,' the source said.")

But it's Monica's moment. I want to see her march into the courthouse --
and as she goes in I want to hear that boxing announcer say, "Let's get
rrrrreaadddddy to rrrrrrrruummmbbbllle."

But it's secret grand jury testimony, Tony. You'll never hear it.

Oh, dear, you're right. No one will ever divulge what Monica says. There'll
be no leaks at all. Well, then, I guess this is the end of the story. I'd better
stop here and start writing a column about how we're backing off bombing
Iraq and have decided instead to install a huge boombox on the
Kuwait-Iraq border, and blast Spice Girls songs at top volume until
Saddam Hussein kills himself.

Please.

Secret testimony? With Monica's lawyer William "Testing 1, 2, 3"
Ginsburg? Are you kidding me? This guy will do 30 minutes into a red light
on Connecticut and K.

The second Monica is done talking, CNN will have her testimony word for
word. Wolf Blitzer will be reading it so quickly, he'll look like the guy in the
sign language circle.

Then we'll know exactly what White House spokesman Mike McCurry
meant when he said that the relationship between Mr. Clinton and Ms.
Lewinsky could turn out to be "a very complicated story."

How complicated?

More complicated than the story that's in everybody's head now? The
perfectly innocent one about the nice old duffer who took a professional
interest in the perky young intern, and left her a few voice mails on her
home answering machine, and gave her a few small gifts -- and let her drop
by his office, um, 37 TIMES.

Here's what could really complicate that story:

If that was the story.

My feeling is the president would be better off with the "Stalker Nymphos
From Outer Space" story, in which an alien lands on Earth in the guise of a
White House intern, with only one purpose: to drain the very life force out
of the leader of the Western World.

McCurry says of the Clinton-Lewinsky relationship: "I don't think it's going
to be entirely easy to explain maybe."

Why not?

The president said he had no sex with "that woman." Simple, right?

Why do I think in a couple of weeks somebody in the White House is
going to say, "Oh, that woman, Miss Lewinsky? No, no, I thought you
were talking about this woman, Tara Lipinski. I can't speak for Lewinsky.
The president never had any sexual encounter with Lipinski. Or this other
woman here, Mrs. Kaczynski, Ted's mom."

I like the "alternate story line" some of the president's men are floating, that
Monica Lewinsky was seduced by the animal magnetism of the president,
but that she is fantasizing about the carnal nature of their relationship -- and
that the president was simply being kind to someone who is a very needy
person. Bill Clinton's whole career indicates that he reaches out to the
needy; he feels their pain.

Thirty-seven visits.

Remember the neediest.

Excerpted from the forthcoming runaway bestseller "Bad Stuff About Mike
McCurry." All rights reserved by Tony Kornheiser and Lucianne
Goldberg. 

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