An office in the U.S. Senate Building in Washington, D.C. Sitting in a chair is a young, clean-cut man in a navy blue suit—THE AIDE—who is speaking through the open door of the office’s bathroom to THE SENATOR, who is within the bathroom, seated upon the toilet.
THE AIDE: This is a bit unusual, Senator ….
THE SENATOR: Oh, get over it, nelly. Now, tell me: What, pray tell, what the fuck am I supposed to do about Elizabeth Edwards? How did my enemies ever get so lucky as to find someone with cancer to attack me? Why can’t I catch a break? She thinks I’m too mannish? Oh sister, you don’t know the half of it. I will drop your pretty-boy husband like a bag of dirt in the next debate ….
THE AIDE: We’ve been trying to hack into Obama’s computer list—
THE SENATOR: And what is it with all these O’s—Obama, Oprah …. That bitch Oprah—how dare she throw a fund raiser for Obama? When I’m President, I’ll have the I.R.S. up her ass before she can say “Stedman.” Has she no conception … (pause) … Ahhh, yes … no conception of the power a president holds? She has a TV show; I’ll have the Executive Branch of the U.S. Government. Does she really wanna mess with Big Momma? Oprah honey, revenge is a dish best served cold—after I’m elected I’ll wait two years, I’ll smile as you say all sorts of nice things about me, then—whammo! Fuck it’s fun to be me! OK. Now listen, I want daily reports from darling husband’s junket in Africa—I want to know where he is each day, who he has dinner with every night, I want to know if he has fucking pulp or no pulp in his O.J. the next morning—got it?
THE AIDE: Yes, Sir—err, Ma’am. I assume you saw Huma in Vogue?
THE SENATOR: Of course I did—Anna sent me the proofs, I chose the photos.
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