By the grace of God and the fellowship of Narcotics Anonymous, I have not found it necessary to swallow a single pill of hillbilly heroin in two weeks. Like all addicts, I did not face my problem until I hit bottom. That came for me when my feminazi housekeeper Hillary Clinton -- I mean Wilma Cline -- reported to police and The National Enquirer that she'd been supplying me with OxyContin.
I have to admit I'll never understand why a woman whom I paid $375 a week just to sweep my house and sell me 43,000 pain pills would betray me. Hell, I even paid her to keep her mouth shut. But I'm not blaming anyone because, you know, when you point a finger at someone, you are always pointing three back at yourself.
But I do blame myself. One thing this sordid affair tells me, my friends, is this: Don't ever hire a white woman as a cleaning lady. Oh you don't have to tell me it's not politically correct to say so -- I'm sure Jesse Jackson just activated his phone tree -- but it's the truth. I am willing to bet if Nicole Simpson (OJ's housekeeper or wife -- whatever, same difference!) had been black, Mr. Simpson would not be a disgraced man.
Allow me a few more moments on this subject. Many of you remember that at the same time the feminazi with a broom turned on me, I lost my gig as a football commentator on ESPN. My sin? I said that Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb is overrated because the media wants to see a black quarterback succeed.
You know, one thing I love about this 12-step program of rigorous honesty is the eighth and ninth steps. The eighth requires us to make a list of people we have harmed in the past. Now, conceivably, Donovan McNabb could be on my list, even though there was no intentional malice on my part. However, the ninth step stipulates that we make amends to the people we harmed unless doing so would cause them further harm. Obviously, since Donovan McNabb and his cronies in the liberal elite sports media can't handle reality, the ninth step prohibits me from further abusing them with the truth. What would I say? "I'm so sorry that hurt I your feelings when I truthfully reduced your success to black ass-kissing by the media"?
But my lack of racism is not the point of this little talk tonight. My point is to share my experience, strength and hope. I'm sure you all know what it's like to live in a multi-million-dollar home and make gobs of money by attacking minorities, the homeless, environmentalists, feminists, Democrats and -- yes -- drug addicts. And I'm sure you can also imagine the utter humiliation of driving to Denny's with a cigar box full of cash to buy thousands of painkillers. Denny's, for chrissakes! This is the unseemly part of addiction. You keep getting pulled down to a level beneath your class -- like that of my housekeeper. I thank this fellowship and my higher power that I don't have to set foot in a Denny's parking lot again. If the whacko environmentalists want to really clean up this country, they should organize to eliminate these declasse blights on our culinary landscape. But we can't eliminate Jesse Jackson's favorite restaurant, now can we?
But my lack of elitism is not the point here. I've found many friends in this program. President Bush, for example, called me a great American last week. This comes as no surprise from someone with his own history of alcohol and drug abuse, whose daughter was arrested for underage drinking and whose niece, Gov. Jeb Bush's daughter, was arrested for trying to fill a fake prescription for Xanax.
This just goes to demonstrate a fact that is obvious but too complicated for our friends the liberals to grasp: There is no required correlation between conservative rhetoric and lifestyle. The fact that the Bush family and I have called for maximum prosecution of drug abusers does not mean that we ourselves should be held to the same standard as common fucked-up junkies. There is -- and please write this down, ladies and gentlemen -- a huge difference between me and those scumbags. I paid for my drugs with money I earned! I did not steal or prostitute my body or apply for welfare to acquire my drugs. Please remember, too, that I was purchasing prescription drugs for pain, not some recreational chemical that turned me into a welfare parasite and burglar. Big difference!
Some have called my refusal to immediately confirm or deny the contents of the Enquirer story reminiscent of Bill Clinton's stonewalling when news of his affair with Monica emerged. That is patently ridiculous. After all, I smoke my cigars. I don't use them as sex toys. But I'll say this: When I admit to my wrongdoing the way Clinton did, then, yes, you can compare me to him.
Cliff Bostock's website is www.soulworks.net.
hahaha... "the smyrna shitholes"...
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