Yes, Virginia, Some Men are Pigs

The hell is the deal with male politicians these days? Have they lost their minds? Guys, they’re giving all us men a bad name. And with Charlie Sheen still on the loose, we need the negative publicity the way a platypus needs another spiny knob at the end of its tail. Maybe the reptilian core at the base of our brains senses mortality, causing caution to be thrown to the wind spiraling into Bacchanalian chaos while there’s still time. Or maybe we’re just stupider and getting caught more.

Specifically speaking about Dominique Strauss-Kahn: the French former managing director of the International Monetary Fund, accused of assaulting a maid in his Manhattan hotel room. Then petitioned for bail claiming not to be a flight risk, even though he was apprehended trying to fly back to Paris on a plane. Which, if you ask me, is the definition of a flight risk. Dude, you were on a flight. And are a hell of a risk.

This isn’t DSK’s first trip down Abuse of Power Alley. So many women (not afraid anymore) are coming forward, French officials might start requiring parade permits. Easy to see why his friends are upset about him being photographed in handcuffs on a perp walk; the guy looks guiltier than a priest roaming the halls of a boys’ school with a pocket full of condoms at 3 a.m. Of course, most successful 60-plus-year-old men share that guilty gleam. Nobody with that kind of power is ever truly innocent.

Strauss-Kahn comes out of the Berlusconi mold with force and intimidation supplanting money and influence, but the transgressions remain the same. Something creepy about these sneaky, silky-smooth, suave European pols who can’t stop loving the ladies. You know them. The guys who force you to avoid your eyes at the pool while they strut around in those tight bikini-bottom bathing suits like plum-smuggling peacocks.

I get it that power is an aphrodisiac, but how and where do all these men acquire this “your silly laws don’t apply to me” attitude? Is there a secret society that escorts the newly elected to a cave, bends them over, and administers a series of ceremonial entitlement shots? Then again, most politicians don’t need the shots. More like a prerequisite. All those rallies and sycophants and phony smiles and eventually, just like mom warned, your face does freeze that way.

There are too many miscreants for it to be a coincidence. In the last couple years, and I’m only listing big profile guys: Clinton. Edwards. Livingston. Gingrich. Vitter. Villaraigosa. Gibbons. Foley. Hutchinson. Sherwood. Allen. McGreevy. Ensign. Craig. Sanford. Spitzer. And now former California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger has admitted infidelity. Shocker, hunh. Who knew? What’s next: clam chowder at Denny’s in Boston on a Friday?

Arnold fathered a son with his housekeeper, who continued to work for the family for the next 10-14 years. Talk about work ethic. And think of the nerve it took not telling your wife while your illegitimate kid is wandering around the house for more than a decade. That’s chutzpah. The Governator may have taken that whole “acting like a member of the Kennedy clan” thing just a little too far. Of course he may end up hailed as a family hero anyhow. By making JFK look good in comparison.

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