The Spitzer Resignation: Street Analysis

Brooklyn Tony here wit' a little contribution to the overall freakin' mess my state is in at the moment due to the Governor, Spitzer, not bein' able to keep Mr. Happy on a leash.

I mean, oh, but this guy is some all-star degenerate over here. 80 large for ho's? This even beats the neighborhood record where I live, which is a coupla Hamiltons short of a thousand, paid by the always-entertaining Benny The Bean, whose main goal in life is to disgust every other human that he meets.

When Benny says he "goin' on a big date", it means that he's goin' down to the Airport Deluxe Motel to meet whatever skank 1-800-hot-babes can bail out that night.. Then he comes back to Bobo's Lounge, walks in the door like he just conquered Europe, and says in a nice, loud voice, "We have LIFTOFF!"

Now it ain't like this Spitzer is breakin' any ground here. We had Clinton getting lubes so often he was turning the Oval Office into Lee Myles. We even had an ex-governor named Rocky, whose last moments, they say, were spent with a female and there wasn't a Monopoly board in sight.

Spitzer don't got enough problems, but from the looks of the other half that's been trailin' him everywhere he goes, the situation at home is gonna go nuclear pretty soon. Three daughters? Forgetabouit. If he hears 4 words from any of them in the next 300 years, 3 of them will rhyme with schmuck.

If he woulda aksed for some good advice, like Elio The Worm did wit' me, this whole thing would be nothin' . Of course, if my house was made outta fried calamari, I'd be homeless, but that's another thing.

So one day, Elio shows up at my house. But I mean, he walks right in, past my father, who's sitting there in front of the TV, asleep, penne and metballs propped on his gut, mouth open, snoring so loud the windows are rattling.

He walks past my mother, who's in the kitchen poundin' a piece of veal and tellin' my Aunt Rosa what a dumb bastard the butcher is to give her a piece of meat like this and how one day soon, she gonna examine his colon wit' an icepick.

Up the stairs he comes, Sherman didn't come through Atlants like this, and arrives at my room wit' all his attitude intact.

"Yo, Tony, you gotta help me," he says.

I put down the slice I was working on, I shift a little in my La-Z-Boy and I look him over. This whole thing, of course, causes me to lose my concentration on "Cops", where the officers were just about to give some fat skell from Georgia a little car ride to jail because he failed the oral part of their exam, where he was supposed to explain just what he was doing in somebody else's yard wit' no shirt on, screamin' like a mook, and the little matter of the crack pipe they found in his pocket after they wrestled him to the ground, sat on him, cuffed him, and shined like 5 flashlights on him.

"What happened," I says to him. "Your old lady lock you out again?"

"Worse," he says. "She found out about Scores."

Elio loved to go the Scores in Manhattan, where he got $10 lap dances, drank $15 drinks, and told his wife, Mrs. Worm, he was going to Donald Trump seminars. "We're gonna be freakin' millionaires," he told her when he got home.

"OK," I says to him. " Here's what you do. First thing, you only went there once. On a dare. If she finds out you been goin' since 6th grade, you'll be a gelding. Then," I looked at his face for signs of disintegration, "you gotta go to Bed Bath and Beyond."

I coulda took the poor guy to the graveyard right then, forget the flowers and the music and tippin' the limo driver, he lies down, we got a corpse.

"Oh, no!," he's cryin' now. It's unbelievable what housewares and drapes do to guys, but it's better than divorce court, which is slow death by paper.

"Yeah, you gotta buy a gift certificate, and load it up. It's gonna take some long green to get you outta this."

Long story short, Elio is still married, and never has set foot in Scores again. It's the kind of story we should be tellin' about Governor "let-my-thing-do-my-thinkin'", but what are you gonna do? Some guys won't listen.

I'm leavin' the door open, too. I figure Elio's Short Stay Deluxe Bed And Breakfast goes South any day now.