Spitzer Stupid? No, just horny. There is a difference.

Let the moral tsk-tsking begin.

Oh my god! Some guy wanted to fuck someone besides his wife! And took steps to do just that, to fuck some younger, hotter, sexier woman. How horrible! Clearly this person is not capable of having a position of power or trust. Because God knows, nobody who ever meets their responsibilities and does what they are supposed to do professionally would ever fuck a prostitute.

Only lowlife fuckups would do that.

Oh wait, these prostitutes cost $4,000-plus. That's kind of steep for the average low-life fuckup. So I'm betting that there were some pretty highly accomplished johns calling the Emperor's VIP Club. Furthermore, I'm betting that they were all married.

After all, if a single guy is willing to drop $4k to bust a load, he's going to make it a lot more fun than some sort of scurrying little tryst in the Mayflower Hotel.

My take on this? First, you know that it was a Democrat getting busted because the hooker was female.

Second. This doesn't bother me that much about Eliot. If anything, I feel sorry for him.

I know, and any man who is honest will know what it's like to fuck the same fucking person over and over and over. It's a deadening, depressing, dream-killing, miserable kind of torture. First, sheer repetition takes the thing that you used to love doing and turns it into a fucking chore that you can frankly take or leave after about round, oh, 300 or so.

I mean, honestly, as much as you might love steak, you're going to get sick of it if that's all that you're ever allowed to eat. And let's not forget, to mix bovine metaphors here, that women are like milk to a man's wine... spoiling into chunky curds (typically on the ass and thighs) over the course of time's inexorable march.

Secondly --- and here's the real ironic twist that proves again what a perversely evil genius God is --- the less you actually want to fuck that same, aging person over and over THE MORE FUCKING WORK IT TAKES TO ACTUALLY DO IT.

Yeah, do you think that you're the only one that's bored with the same bits of sweat-soaked genitalia? Think again! So is she! Bored bored bored. Bored pissless! Also, long, long past the point of being impressed by you anymore. You know how she used to think that you were funny and smart and sexy. Well, she's heard all your fucking stories by now, twenty times plus. She's seen you walk around the house looking for the keys IN YOUR GODDAMNED HAND, Mr. Genius. Also washed about a thousand pairs of your underwear with skid marks in the seat that look like they were drawn in with a brown magic marker.

And don't forget that she's squeezed a couple of human beings out of that same vagina, too, acts that not only stretched it well past its optimal penile-rubbing dimensions but also instantaneously moved you from center stage in her set of priorities to somewhere up by the concession stand.

To recap: She's tired, she's sick of you, she's a MOM now. And you're coming at her with that dick of yours? It's all she can do to avoid throwing that hot cup of chamomille tea by the bedstand on your cock to make it go away. So to get in that only marginally desirable pussy you are going to have to beg and cajole and butter her up more than you EVER did when she was young and hot and genuinely fuckable.

How's that for hilarious? Let's really amp the fun up. You, being the wine to her milk, are actually more desirable than ever. Sure, you've lost some physical allure, but have more than compensated by your gravitas, stature, demeanor and other fancy words for MONEY. Yeah, you're rich and powerful and have hot young little gold-diggers and advancement-seekers in short skirts giving you sultry glances all the ding-dong day! Who are a thousand, million times hotter than this mother of your children, the one who is trying to feign sleep to get out of giving you a simple, basic, ordinary missionary-style fuck right now.

And we act surprised, shocked, when some married guy with something on the ball runs screaming and erect into the nearest brothel?

I mean, fuck, when you've got to get that dick into something besides the old, flabby, disinterested, enormous, dry, contemptuous vagina you are married to, hookers are about the safest bet going. Personally, I'm more of a massage parlor man, but that could just be because I don't have 4 grand lying around in my "bust a nut" account.

I mean, what the fuck else is Eliot Spitzer supposed to do? Have an affair? No, he doesn't want to have another relationship. He just wants to get fucking fucked again for once in his life. Also, he doesn't want people to think he's copycatting Giuliani. Fuck an intern? No, everyone knows what that leads to. Get a Real Doll? Those things develop hygiene problems over time and use. Sheep? Get real. He lives in New York, not Wyoming. Show self restraint? Go golfing? Channel that energy into home repair projects. Fuck that. Some of us want to actually LIVE while we are alive.

No. A hooker is the only way to go. Clean. Attachment free. Safe. Or so Eliot thought. He was almost right too.

Turns out he was just a peripheral casualty in the IRS's quest to squeeze their full due out of this prostitution ring. The Feds weren't even after the johns the whole time, just the money.

Poor bastard.