It's a lot like when I'm at the grocery store trying to buy the National Enquirer incognito. I just can't help myself. It's so illicit, too delicious. Unlike the Enquirer, though, my Time purchase can be rationalized. Here, let me explain. You'll like it -- there's some humiliation involved.
About ten thousand years ago, during Mr. M's frenetic preschool wrapping-paper sale, I bought several generic magazine vouchers to add to my "present" drawer. Because one never knows. And then I forgot all about them.
Fast-forward to this past Christmas. On the last day of school before break, the cupboard was bare. We had no present for Mr. M's teacher -- not even a bag of Starbucks coffee beans to re-gift. As I foraged around in the massive box of wrapping-paper, hoping to find a candle or a purse-sized tool kit, I found salvation: two magazine vouchers, buried under the rolls.
Oh, sweet relief. I pulled them out and gave one to Mr. M and dispatched him to school where he proudly presented the officious voucher to his wonderful teacher (and she really is wonderful). The other one I put aside and turned to a few days later, well into the Christmas break.
As I put on my reading glasses and focused on the
"Dear Teacher, you are so great. Here's a worthless magazine voucher we bought three years ago for our nameless, faceless, just-in-case drawer. Merry Christmas. Love, Mr. M."
As an experiment (God give me the grace to find a way to save face) I filled out the other expired voucher and selected Time Magazine. Things like, "Betty Crocker 365" and "Body Building for Already Perfect People" were among my other choices, as I recall.
Six weeks later, Time arrived in my mailbox. Phew. Victory. Needless to say, I wasted no time in emailing Mr. M's teacher with the $12.00 good news. "See, we weren't so cheap after all!"
True, she, uh, never emailed me back or anything. But I'm thinking it's because it was all just too awkward. I mean what could she say? "No hard feelings. It's the thoughtlesness that counts!"?
But the voucher scandal is not why I started to write this post. "
To recap, Mr. Spitzer resigned in disgrace after falling from his 99-foot high law-and-order platform. Prostitution, it is said, was his downfall. No surprise there. "Piousness cometh before a fall," my mother always said.
Anyway, the article described Mr. Spitzer as he was on his way to do an interview with Stephen Colbert. This naturally piqued my interest because I'm in total rapport with the Colbert Report.
Mr. Spitzer was in an absolute dither in the back seat of his taxi as he made his way to Colbert's studio.
Why? Because, according to Time, Colbert completely eviscerated Senate hopeful Harold Ford on his show the week before. In the words of Time, Colbert "swallowed Ford whole, like a boa constrictor eating a hamster." Yikes!
Ford, you may recall, is a former congressman from Tennessee who was considering a run for the Senate. But, err, not in Tennessee. No, he was considering a bid to fill Hillary Clinton's old New York Senate seat. And it's no secret that Obama was giving him a mashing thumbs-down.
As it turned out, White House pressure to withdraw wasn't necessary. Following Colbert's decapitation, Ford quietly (okay, faintly) went by the wayside and withdrew his bid.
A "Colbert coincidence"? You be the judge. Here's the Perry Mason clip; watch it and let Colbert file your nails:
|The Colbert Report||Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c|
|Harold Ford Jr.|
And how did Mr. Spitzer fare with Mr. Colbert, a week later? All things considered, I'd say pretty damned well.