The Democratic Party hocked up a particularly repulsive slate of presidential candidates this year, and the individual to whom I took the most active and instant dislike was John Edwards. A successful, yet nonetheless sleazy, liability lawyer who rode the gravy train to the end of the line, he was well known for his melodramatic courtroom antics; he once “channeled” the spirit of his client’s dead child, which tactic, had I been a juror, would not only have convinced me to vote for acquittal of the defendant, but would have emboldened me to reach out from the jury box and try to strangle Edwards with his own hundred dollar necktie. The hypocrisy of this fat-cat ambulance chaser and owner of a house the size of a shopping center trying to pass himself off as a defender of the poor was revolting, and I got the distinct impression that he was attempting to treat the electorate as if it were constituted of the sort of mental midgets who made up most of his juries. A sufficient quantity of voters, however, either saw through this monumental fraud, or were fetched by the comparatively greater charms of the other candidates, so Edwards was ultimately swept into the dustbin of presidential history.
Perhaps that explains why it was left up to the National Enquirer to track this inflatable Ken doll of a man to a hotel in Los Angeles, where he reportedly spent the night with his mistress and his love child – while his wife was back home in North Carolina, battling cancer. Of course, he apparently had other reasons for being in Los Angeles: per the Enquirer, “The former senator attended a press event Monday afternoon with L.A. Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa on the topic of how to combat homelessness.” Interesting topic, John; why don’t you just invite the homeless to stay with you?.
Death By 1000 Paper Cuts has more.