Bill Bennett Yet Again

Blame Avedon Carol: she blogged a post by Scoobie Davis that purports to be "The Last Word on William Bennett." (Blogspot's permalinks are upgefucked; scroll down to the entry for Friday, May 16, 2003.)

I've been outdone. I've been saying that the only thing wrong with Bennett's gambling habit is that he hadn't blown any of that 8 mil in my direction. Scoobie Davis shows much more compassionate mindfulness than I:

I have a solution: if Bennett’s doormat of a wife gains some self-respect and dumps him, then for a modest fee, I would be glad to take Bennett out on the town and show him what fun is. We can crash some parties and meet interesting people (if Bennett were to invest in a couple films, he could legitimately tell women that he’s a movie producer). I can take Bennett to some yoga classes where he can meet some hot and in-shape babes (plus yoga would be great for weight loss and to loosen the kundalini blockage in the root chakra area--this will allow Bennett to unclench his sphincter muscles). I won’t charge much (which is good because the money from Bennett’s virtue scam will be gone soon). I can show Bennett the meaning of the word fun at bargain basement prices. How do I contact him?

Umm, Scooby? If you should arrange this, be sure to take the good Mr. Bennett to the SF Bay Area, where he absolutely must be allowed to sit in on the Tiltboys' home poker game. If that wouldn't be fun, nothing is.