Miss Wendy's Texas Love Advice
Plus Some Occasional Comments on the
State of the Popular Culture

L-R: Michael Mazocco, Wendy R. Williams, Armistead Johnson
Photo: Stephen Mosher

Oh dear Miss Wendy,

Now that former President Clinton is back in the news and Monica has once again confided her hurt and confusion to her close friends in the paying British press, where is Paula Jones?  It feel like a five year high school reunion without the return of the class clown.

--------Political

Dear Polly,

I am so glad you asked, because something happened the other night that made me think about darling Paula Jones.  I was walking home alone on a dark and deserted Manhattan street (you are not supposed to do this), when a man pulled up next to me in his car and turned on the car's interior lights so I could see "it". I took a quick glance at "it" (about 15 seconds max) and walked away.  My flasher then pulled his car forward, stopped  and turned on his lights again so I could get a better look at "it". 

Now what do you think I did - scream in fright (it was not that impressive) or run home to call the police and report him, giving his license number and description? 

Well....I did none of those things.  I continued walking, went to the store and then on home to watch TV.

So why did I do nothing?  Because there was nothing in it for me to justify the aggravation - no money, no fame.  And I was tired and in no mood to spend the rest of my evening at a police station, filling out a report about this nonsense.  Or attend a line-up where the police sergeant would say things like, "Okay, gentlemen, please unzip your pants?"  Or worse yet, go to court and describe what I saw and be asked questions like, "Were there any identifying physical characteristics?"

Now I don't know about dear Paula, but men have been flashing me my entire life and the most I have ever done about it is tell them to put that silly little thing back where it belongs.  Perhaps things were more innocent back in Arkansas, but I doubt it.

And as for being traumatized by being flashed and propositioned, think about this for a Democratic fund raiser.  Would you pay $100 for a 30 second visit with former President Clinton?  It would work like this: You walk into a room where President Clinton sits on a bed - he flashes you and propositions you and you hand him your tax deductible check and walk out.  Now before you get all huffy, think about it for a minute.  You would have fodder for cocktail party conversations for the rest of your life, not to mention your grandchildren's lives. And when your grandchildren become teenagers and go into that rebellious stage where they think all their ancestors are intolerable prudes, you can say to them, "But on the contrary, dear, I was once politically active."