Spitzer!

I will admit to you, Barrelhouse blog readers, that I have followed the Spitzer affair with an avid (oh, all right – unhealthy) interest. A good old-fashioned home-state sex scandal! What's not to love?

But even more entertaining than the downfall of Spitzer at the brusque hands of the FBI and the lotioned hands of Ashley has been the preemptive strike strategy employed by the state’s new governor, David Paterson. It’s not that Paterson has nothing to hide; it’s that he is going to tell everyone everything.

No sooner had the microphone feedback died down at the swearing in than Paterson and his wife called a press conference to reassure a nervous constituency that, oh heavens, yes, they’d both had affairs. Long ones. Hot ones. With lots of dirty secret hotel room sex. Monday, Paterson promised a NY1 reporter that he had indeed enjoyed marijuana and cocaine in the past. No word yet if Mrs. P prefers psychedelics, but I’m sure she’ll be forthcoming.

My thinking is, besides providing hope for those of us who thought our political careers had died during the freshman year party we can’t quite remember that ended up in the room decorated with Bob Marley posters and dead glowsticks, Paterson is igniting a trend. Who will be the next public official to tell us what we’d rather not know? And what will they say? Is John McCain a furry? Does Nancy Pelosi enjoy very dirty, very sweaty kneesocks? Direct your theories to the comments. Do it for America.