#729 Eliot

So I suppose I should weigh in on the Eliot Spitzer debacle.
I read a comment that was unintentionally right on. It said, “Spitzer’s resignation ends a meteoric political career that at one point sparked talk of presidential ambitions.”
Since the career ended and since at the end it came crashing down, this sentence is correct. But the implication was that it was the end of the meteoric rise of his career. The career in question and the phrase “sparking talk of presidential ambitions” making the sentence indicate the meteor was on its way up.
Which, of course, it never is. Meteors fall, meteors come crashing down, meteors drop, flame out, and burn to cinders. Meteors do not rise. Rockets rise. Missiles rise. Volcanoes rise. Certain parts of the male anatomy rise—and cause a career to plummet like a meteor.
People ask, was it worth it? And that is the real point. Because for the life of me I can’t figure how it could be. Forget about the meteoric crash of his life and career, I’m talking about the 5000 bucks!
Maybe I just don’t value myself very well, but I can’t conceive of anything anyone could do to me that would be worth 5000 bucks. Maybe I just don’t value pleasure very much.
Or I don’t have a vivid enough imagination. There’s nothing I can think of that would be worth 5 G’s.
Oh, maybe it would be worth that much to stop something. Like waterboarding or pulling out my fingernails or some other incredible pain.
But pleasure? It’s not like I’m some 17-year-old boy lusting over pictures in a magazine that’s never had the opportunity to be with a real woman.
And it’s not like Eliot was either. Here’s a married guy with three kids, so presumably he’s got the basics covered. At what point do the add-ons amount to $5000 an hour?
Maybe I just don’t have the sensitive nerve endings people like Eliot do. I guess I’m just too much of a skin flint. Even on my skin.
America, ya gotta love it.