My Night With Bill Clinton

My Night With Bill Clinton

I live near Carnegie Hall basically because if I open the window, sometimes I can hear the music…and if I can’t hear the music, it certainly beats living near a garbage dump.  On the other hand, maybe I do live near a garbage dump.  The other night I tried to come back to my apartment after an evening of rivalry (basically borscht and blintzes), and found the way to my apartment blocked, and dozens of policemen and police cars in the street.

Concerned that there may have been a natural disaster, I inquired of the policemen.  It turned out that there was a disaster, but the disaster’s name was Bill Clinton.  He was speaking at Carnegie Hall, and because of this, the street was closed off, police cars were all around too, etc.  I told them I am going to my apartment, and they could arrest me if they like, secure in the knowledge that, at least as far as I knew, there was no crime called “Violating the Clinton Statute.”  So I went happily to my apartment unarrested.  Now, the unworthy thought occurs to me that if a semi-crook like Clinton, who was disbarred (too big a liar to be a lawyer), impeached, alleged to have raped a woman, perjured himself, “sold” pardons, and even went off with some of the White House silver, gets to have a street closed off, then John Gotti had the right to have had the whole city closed down for him, and all he ended up with is being locked up in a room with no girls.

Several days have now passed since Clinton’s exit from Carnegie Hall, and now, thankfully, I can open the windows again.