District of Corruption

The Trashy Establishment

I’ve read the transcript of the sexual assault complaint against Al Gore. He basically comes across as you’d expect-like a gluttonous pig-but there’s one part I found particularly disturbing.  It’s at a point where the masseuse is still in the hotel room and Gore is trying to get her to sleep with him.  This is from page 21-22

He insisted I look at his ipod as I was packing and telling me about his association with Apple and told me to come into his bedroom where the ipod docking station was and listen to a song that he had mentioned by Pink about the current president, Bush that would shock me.

 She finally goes into the bedroom.

He said that I couldn’t hear from there and to just sit with him for a moment to hear this song and patted the bed side again, reassuring me he just really wanted me to hear this song that part of his global warming tour somehow, inferring that it was now safe to sit by him as though we were friends.  I stalled and I refused.  He then angrily raised his voice and forcefully commanded me to come sit.  I felt like Bambi in the headlights.  I went into shock and I woodenly went and reluctantly sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.  The song was “Dear Mr. President” by Pink.  He said it was written to protest the current administration and that it has been or was going to be chosen to accompany some presentation of his or film as were some other songs chosen by Melissa Ethridge.

As soon as he had it playing, he turned to me and he immediately flipped me on my back and threw his whole body face down over atop me, pinning me down and outweighing me by quite a bit.  Get off me, you big lummox!...

I started to sit up and he tightly grasped my right wrist and where am I?  And hand and we lay on our sides a couple feet apart, looking at each other as he played the song, him singing along with it as if he were revealing deep feelings like some bizarre karaoke and me stuck there, staring at this unpredictable predator, wondering how to get loose and get away.

I had little respect for Al Gore before, but knowing that he karaoked along to “Dear Mr. President” takes my contempt to a whole new level. If you haven’t heard the song before, here’s a representative sample of the lyrics.

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?                                                                                

And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?

I can only imagine what the first lady has to say

You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine.

It’s a political message targeted to the intelligence level of an R&B listening audience.

But imagine this tub of lard Harvard graduate and internationally famous intellectual mouthing such words!  Perhaps believing that it would impress a woman by its infinite philosophical depth? "Oh, you've gotta hear this song!" I would’ve thought Gore would at least maybe curl up with a Chomsky book if he needed therapy after his loss.  But to get over a lost presidency while listening to Pink?  The elite isn’t just incompetent and evil-it’s plain trashy.