Goddamn it! How could we let Bernard Kerik slip away from us like that?
The Cinderella story of the entire Bush Administration, washed out of his nomination over affirmatively acting to promote an already underpaid illegal immigrant to a higher level of exploitation. Or was it the “family values” torpedo that sank him, now that light has found his two mistresses and three wives? I’m banking on the latter, with the former allowing him a relatively graceful exit. Someone in the Bush camp finally saw the awful writing on the wall: Kerik would, once confirmed, consummate his new position in several positions with someone probably not his wife. And in an administration where the last recorded sexual intercourse was during the creation of a child who has just matriculated from college, Kerik’s studliness was just too much to be tolerated.
Like him or not, Kerik’s main talent is that he’s a playa’. We’re talking about the former narc who led a team that busted $250 million in coke during one deal. Kerik himself once said that he suffered from an identity crisis while working undercover. Apparently that extended to his personal life, where he had a curious habit of three-timing the women around him into relative submission. For a brief time in 2001, Kerik’s trifecta involved a wife (and mother to his two kids), a corrections officer, and patrician publishing matriarch Judith Regan. Kerik’s got to be some lover. Setting aside the wife, whom he claimed was a passionless bore, Bernie was left with two sexually hungry and possessive women. Regan tolerated being the other-other woman for months, until she found out that Kerik had succeeded in making his wife preggers. How long things went on with the prison guard, no one seems to know (conflicting reports have them disengaged in ’96, but the cellblock hussy made a legendary call to Regan in ‘01, telling her to back the fuck off). What a guy! Not only do the chicks not leave him, they continue to fight over him after his betrayal is discovered!
The danger in having Kerik as a Cabinet secretary was that sooner or later, groupies were going to seek this guy out. A veritable porn star among men who are known to be erect only when vast sums of money are being discussed, his New York salami would have been the hottest meal in the White House, next to the grits—and we all know how lousy grits are without a slab of hot meat. Kerik would have made Clinton look like an amateur. He had to know that once word of his simultaneous infidelities reached his wife, she’d leave him. Then we’d have had Kerik unbound. I can almost hear Motley Crue’s “Girls-Girls-Girls” blaring from the Lincoln Bedroom, with Laura Bush pounding furiously on the door for Bernie to “keep it down!” Lots of luck, Laura. A horn dog like this is down only when drained.
Which is why Kerik was shown the back door to an honorable and hasty withdrawal. It sure as hell wasn’t the nanny bullshit or the millions he made from his Taser company investments, or even his mob connections. If those were disqualifiers, most of the first term Cabinet would have kept their corporate jobs rather than take over the messy and underpaid roles assigned them by Chimp Industries U.S.A., Inc. Sex-sex-sex might have been okay if Kerik had stuck with his wife and served as a model for the rest of the Cabinet to keep the magic alive in their own homes. But no. Bernie was a potential Lothario to the Cabinet wives set, and the one man who could possibly have fucked Condi Rice into a shattering orgasm (and, dare I say it--humanity). So, faster than you can say “New York blowjob,” he was excised from the Capitol Kingdom and unlimited power.
What a damn shame, too. Frankly, I’m getting bored with the war and who knew what and when. Four More Years was no surprise to me, as Kerry was about as inspiring as cold flapjacks after a Jose Cuervo hangover. Ditto for the burgeoning deficit, impending starboard Supreme Court lurch, and, yes, further popular enslavement to banks. We all could have used the prurient shot in the lower frontal lobes offered by Bernard Kerik’s Cabinet cock antics. A Homeland Security Chief with unfading mojo (or a proper Viagra usage) is someone who arrives on the job rested, ready and focused—something Tom Ridge has never been. And if Bernie’s wife decided to leave him and take most of his money? Hey—that’s America. Stop pretending we don’t encourage it all the time.
