|By Ariel Trebuchet, News Lampoon columnist
February 22, 2008, Washington--Nine years ago, when I was a congressional page, John
McCain slept with me. He slept with all of us, except for the boys
of course. It's been pretty well documented who slept with the boys,
and it certainly was not Johnny McCain.
Johnny slept with female senators, representatives, anyone he could. He slept with
fellow Arizonian Sandra Day O'Connor. He said he was making up for
the "sex time" he had lost while being held captive by the Vietnamese.
Johnny hit every waitress and barmaid on M Street and most of the
female lobbyists on K Street. He caught
Monica Lewinsky on the rebound after President Clinton dumped her.
He left no stone unturned.
That's why I'm shocked about the recent New York Times story hinting
that Johnny might have slept with that female lobbyist whose name I won't
mention because I don't want to embarrass her. I guess the
Times reporters couldn't see the tree for the forest. Who
didn't sleep with Johnny? Now that would be a story.
I would like to thank the Times for leaving that "narrative" to
me ("narrative" and "meme" are the big words in journalism these days).
"That female lobbyist" is the one person on Capitol Hill Johnny did not
sleep with. How do I know? Johnny told me.
I remember it very clearly. He thought she was nice looking, but
she repulsed him, Johnny told me, though he couldn't say exactly why.
We were at the Marriott on DuPont Circle. Johnny was wearing a
white shirt, looking in the mirror as he tied his tie. He didn't
have any pants or shoes or socks on, no underwear. He liked walking
around like that, practicing his speeches or what he was going to say to
the press. I remember at the time that he was mad at George W. Bush
about something. It was about 1:00 in the afternoon. Someone
knocked on the door.
Johnny put his index finger to his lips and then ducked into the
bathroom. I remember how much that irritated me, his putting his
finger to his lips like that, like I was going to rat on him for sleeping
with me. Like I, a beautiful, squeaky-clean,
18-year-old page with her whole life ahead of her, wanted
anyone to know I was sleeping with a grouchy old fart like Johnny!
I wrapped a sheet around me and opened the door. It was room
service with my lunch.
Johnny came back out of the bathroom and started crawling around on the
floor, looking for his undershorts. Suddenly his head snapped up.
"That's it!" he said.
"What?" I asked.
"What's that smell?" he said, still on all fours, head up like my Dad's
bulldog, Scout, when he'd catch a scent. "Are you eating Brussels
I love Brussels sprouts, with lots of butter and salt and
pepper. I had ordered a double portion.
"That's why I can't stand that woman!" Johnny said. You'd think
he'd just discovered life on Mars or something. "She smells like
Brussels sprouts! Now go flush those things down the toilet before I
Johnny never slept with me again.
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