Yesterday was the 40th anniversary of President Richard Nixon’s resignation, and everything old is new again.
There are rumblings of impeachment in the air amidst talk of criminal misdoings, pertinent information has gone missing, and President Barack Obama has an enemies list. Hell, Carole King’s music is even being revived on Broadway.
The seventies are back, baby!
America’s least favorite crazy uncle from the Nixon era, Pat Buchanan, has once again been released from MSNBC’s Bedlamite green room to shuffle around Joe Scarborough’s dysfunctional family morning show and he is using his second, or possibly third, act to plug his Nixon book: ‘The Greatest Comeback: How Richard Nixon Rose From Defeat to Create the New Majority.’
Before retreating back into his default position as a pro bono Nazi apologist, Buchanan has already managed to deliver both his benediction and possibly the worst political endorsement of all time upon aspiring CEO of America, LLC , Mitt Romney, with a quote that will probably not used as a blurb on the back of Romney’s next book, ‘Third Time Is A Charm: Render Unto Mitt What Is Mitt’s, Goldarn It.’
Quoth the Buchanan, “My view, though, is that Romney is sort of the Nixon in the sense that he’s a candidate who’s lost two times or three times, whatever. And he’s considered a loser. However, he’s considered presidential material. And I think a lot of people are looking at him because they think that maybe he’s the only guy that can really go the distance.”
Romney 2016: ‘He’s a loser, but at least he’s considered presidential material unlike those other bigger losers.’
Of course, no reliving of the Nixon years would be complete without the tale of one of those women who are always standing behind a great man pushing and shoving and looking over his shoulder demanding attention.
In the early seventies we had Martha Mitchell, wife of Attorney General John Mitchell, who helped goose the Watergate investigation along by being a distraction to her husband who was busy playing defense for the beleaguered Nixon administration. Every time John attempted to make a play, there was an attention-starved Martha phoning in the signals to the opposing team, in this case, the press. According to Martha, she was messing things up so much that Nixonites stashed her in a California hotel room. In the end, John Mitchell — who once tried to threaten off Carl Bernstein by warning him that his boss, Katherine Graham, was “gonna get her tit caught in a big fat wringer,” if he wrote a report about a Nixon campaign slush fund– was the tit that got caught and he spent some time in the clink.
Today’s Martha Mitchell would be Maureen McDonnell, –currently estranged wife of former Virginia governor Bob McDonnell — who was running around behind his back, working one of his contributors for cash, lovely gifts, and attention while Bob was focusing on other Virginia ladies whose naughty parts he wanted to make sweet transvaginal wand love to while setting himself up for a presidential run.
According to her chief of staff, Maureen McDonnell was a bit of a “nutbag,” screaming at staffers, demanding attention, and working the cracks by using the prestige of the governor’s office to maintain the lifestyle to which she wished to become accustomed to. Unfortunately, the McDonnell’s were deeply in debt, so she turned to one of her husband’s big dollar contributors, a diet and nutritional supplement huckster named Jonnie R. Williams.
As you may guess, this did not turn out well since nutritional supplement executives are like meth dealers, but without ethics.
Maureen McDonnell developed a “crush” on Williams and there may have been some hanky panky involved, or possibly Maureen just had a hankering for Williams’ panky. Williams lavished the kind of attention on Maureen that her husband Bob expended upon his aerodynamic hairstyle; a look favored by insurance men and former Dallas Cowboys coach Jimmy Johnson alike. While Maureen was attempting to help Williams shove his tobacco-based supplement Anatabloc down Virginia’s throat, Williams was taking her on shopping sprees in Manhattan at stores like Bergdorf Goodman, Louis Vuitton, and Oscar de la Renta, where she presumably modeled dresses for him while he held her purse … a sure sign that they were probably “doin’ it.” Additionally, Maureen kept in constant contact with Williams — with over 1,200 text messages including 52 in one day — and her chief of staff took to calling their get-togethers “play dates.”
Sounds like sex-texting sexy-time to me.
But like all great love affairs based solely upon money and gift-giving and desperation (see all of Rush Limbaugh’s marriages), it crashed to the ground, and now the McDonnells are both on trial with separate attorneys, and fingers are being pointed and dirty laundry is being aired and it is sad and humiliating and nobody involved is going to the White House and they all may be going to the Big House.
At least until the verdicts are delivered…