P. T. Says -- We're Sorry, So Sorry

By Eugene D. Bronstein
Guardsman Staff Writer
Published Mar. 8, 1999

COLUMN

Now that the impeachment trial is over, we need to be healed. I propose a government-funded 12-step program, to be called Republicans Anonymous. The purpose: to help die-hard rich, white Republicans rejoin the human race and become a born-again Democrat.

RA would provide a forum where recovering right-wing Republicans overindulging in subpoenas, witch hunts, fascism and Clinton penis envy can tell the story of their addiction and the depths to which they sank. RA members would invite others to admit their addiction and begin the road to recovery.

Imagine a meeting opening with Henry Hyde, a House Manager, speaking: "Hello, my name is Henry Hyde, and I’m an impeachmentholic. I couldn’t start the day without watching CNN or MSNBC’s coverage of the impeachment trial. And then I would want more. I had to have another witness, another subpoena.

"Soon, I couldn’t stop. I had to have subpoenas all day long. I hid them in my desk drawer, and then I just went down the street with them. More subpoenas, impeachment, Conviction.

"I wouldn’t admit I had a problem. I began thinking that without impeachment and conviction this country wouldn’t be worth defending anymore. But now, I know I am an impeachmentholic."

Good boy, Henry, that’s the first step to recovery.

Apologizing to everyone who’s been wronged by RA members would be one step to recovery. Imagine all 13 House Managers becoming born-again De-mocrats. Perhaps, they’d form a musical group, singing their theme song, "I’m sorry, so sorry ..."

The federal budget surplus could stand a few hundred million dollars for TV spots getting those impeachmentholics into the program, to break the cycle of addiction and prevent their kids from becoming addicted. A TV spot would be like this:

It’s early in the morning, and ex-House Manager Asa Hutchinson staggers down the street, writing the word subpoena on old newspaper pages. He thrusts them at passersby, yelling, "I was a House Manager! You’re subpoenaed!"

A disheveled, unkempt, wild-eyed, unshaven Ken Starr rushes into the courthouse and into a judge’s chambers. "More subpoenas," he screams.

Voice over: "Can’t control the urge to impeach? Can’t think about anything but conviction? Isn’t it time you admitted you have a problem?"

Starr grabs the judge by his robes. "Subpoena Monica! Subpoena Clinton! Subpoena God! He knows what really happened.

"Let our caring staff help you regain control of your life."

In the judge’s chambers, Barbara Boxer is wrestling Starr out the door.

"Just three more subpoenas!" he calls back to the judge.

So, what’s it going to be, people? Rehab with Republicans Anonymous or more prisons?

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