Mr. Spitzer's Privates Matter

New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer could not have been more wrong in his brief public appearance after the world learned that he was suspected of patronizing a prostitution ring. He did not just betray his family, but his constituents who would have also enjoyed a reprieve from their own taxing jobs with some hot, $5,500/hour sex. It is hard to see how he will recover from this mess without some tissue paper and one of those hookers as his press secretary so at least his horny citizens get a taste.

"I have violated my obligation to my family, in addition to several young women with 20-inch waists and 34-inch chests," said Gov. Spitzer before pushing his hands together to depict the various positions he had mastered for these encounters which appeared to include, "The Flying Dutchman," "The Ant-Eater," and "Mrs. Butterworth's Maple Syrup Slurp."

Gov. Spitzer went on to explain that politics is not only about "big ideas" but also "large breasts, well-appointed motel suites, and body chocolate." His short, arrogant statement was simply not enough from the Sheriff of Wall Street (which apparently is a moniker that featured prominently in his trysts, if you're picking up what I'm putting down), the folks at the press conference also wanted pictures, movies, and the Emperor Club VIP phone number.

On Wall Street, where Spitzer rammed through reform with the same vigor we hope his soon-to-be-public text messages and e-mails display he used in the company of high-class whores, investment bankers reveled in smug satisfaction as they railed lines of coke off hookers' tits in celebration. Said one zooted-up member of the Blackstone Group, "Spitzer? I hardly know her!"

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