So the City of Detroit (aka as Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick) has chosen the futile and money-wasting course of appealing the court’s decision to disclose the secret, and almost certainly unlawful, agreement intended to keep more embarrassing information about the Mayor from coming to light. ("Kilpatrick will appeal judge's order to release documents").
So what's the Mayor thinking?
He’s not thinking.
His mind is otherwise occupied.
You see, as he told us last week, from the study of his pastor’s office, since this latest scandal broke he’s been suffering through some bewildering experiences for the very first time.
For the first time in his life he's had to have a conversation with his 12-year old twins about “very grown up things.”
For the first time since he was crowned Mayor in January 2002, he has had to put everything aside and focus only on his family.
And most important of all, (though he left it out of his televised apology), for the first time since he hit puberty, he isn’t getting any at all. I mean, not any.
The closest Carlita comes to approaching him right now is when she’s waving aloft a rolling pin, the wooden kind she’s wickedly learned how to sneak past the city hall metal detectors.
And we know Christine Beatty’s no longer available as the Mayor's trusted Chief of “Staff”; and we know Tamara Greene and her co-stripper in Georgia are dead, and North Carolina tubmate Carmen Slowski is now just a chlorinated memory. (“Posh N.C. resort confirms mayor's massage for two”).
Not that there aren’t plenty of Jamaican whores and mink-wrapped boy-toys still perfectly eager to get busy with the Kingpin, but how to get at 'em?
At this moment the light’s so strong, and the news 'copters are circling so low, that a hard-working God’s man can’t get out for that essential restorative lovin’. Nor with all those reporters running around the City-County Building can the lovin’ ones get in to conduct needed mayoral, uh, transactions. The day after Kwame promised Detroiters “I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” he tried to issue an edict keeping reporters away from his private elevator and his eleventh-floor office was, but had to abandon that the same day. It would just lead to more lawsuits, you see. ("Kilpatrick continues to behave badly").
Then, to make the security net complete, there’s the First Lady camped outside the Executive Office Suite with that rolling pin.
All of which means that for the next little while the only mounting Kwame's going to feel will be his own frustration.
And such a physical, emotional, and hormonal deprivation, as those of you educated in public school sex ed classes all learned, will impair your mind.
All of which leads to some godly anger on His Honor’s part.
Is it any wonder his famous hip-hop smarts are failing him now? Last September, when he boldly answered, "Hell, yes!" to the question of whether he would appeal the jury's guilty verdict, that was a terrible decision, and he was still open for business, romantically speaking.
Now he's not even as smart as he was then. How could he be? He is being forced by his persecutors to live without the God-given perks of his elected office.
No wonder all those preachers feel sorry for him. No wonder all those sweet old Bible study ladies want to forgive him and have everybody else just drop it. They know he's hurting. They know he's only a man, (but what a man!), and he has needs.
It's the same way with all God's guys, ain't it?
Other men of God have suffered the same martyrdom, most prominently, Bill Clinton. Once the Monica scandal broke, Clinton was forced into celibacy almost overnight.
Before our eyes he was transformed from a handsome, cornfed statesman to a mere shadow of himself.
And by now his famed political judgment has become so clouded, Hillary's campaign is insisting he stay at home.