Here's What I Misremember

I had one major relevation after watching the 5 hour plus Congressional hearing about Fathead Roger Clemens' steroid use.

The people in the states who elected the representatives that sat on the panel should be ashamed of themselves. Because, except for perhaps Committee Chairman Henry Waxman from Los Angeles, every single one of those elected officials were complete morons. The most notable among the village idiots was the Republican Congressman from Indiana, Dan Burton, who stopped just short of giving Clemens a Whitman's Sampler for Valentine's Day. Burton, an old and corroded fossil of a politician, attacked trainer Brian McNamee with such venom that he should be impounded as a potential carrier of rabies. If he really wanted to serve his country with honor, I suggest that Burton get a job as a target for Marine sniper practice.

One after another, these elected officials did their best to show why this hearing was a textbook example of how to waste taxpayers' dollars. And, ultimately, the whole day's proceedings fell into the standard partisan divide that is choking the life out of America. If you're a conservative Republican on this committee, you were licking Clemens' Florsheims. If you were a liberal Democrat, you sided with McNamee. Regardless, all we eventually learned is that there is just one more way where our two party political system can give our nation a fatal wedgie.

I had to love the softball questions that Rocket Clemens fielded. Every one was a bunt back to the mound. "Mr. Clemens, what is your workout regimen?" "What uniform will you wear into the Hall of Fame?" One jerk representing New York State thanked Clemens for all his years of service to the Yankees. A commitment to the community for which Roger was paid 15 million dollars a year. Virtually all of the jokers on this panel should be voted out of office the very next time they are up for re-election. By then, they won't need the money anyway as several of them are already probably trying to figure out how to put their Clemens-autographed photos up on e-Bay.

There was one very easy way to conduct this hearing and get it over faster than a Subway sandwich.

"Hello, Mr. Pettitte, thank you for appearing today. Do you recall Mr. Clemens telling you that he took HGH?"

"Yes."

"Is Mr. McNamee telling the truth, Mr. Pettitte?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Mr. Pettitte. You may now report to spring training in Tampa. Go, Yankees."

Two questions and done. Clemens starts on a diet since stripes are not slimming and all the representatives go to Starbucks early for a frappucino and a nifty banana nut muffin.

Instead, we wind up with last Wednesday. More lies. More innuendos. People trying to remember what happened at a Jose Canseco party ten years ago. If I'm guessing, most of those attendees couldn't recall what they did at that party the very next morning. Injections on Roger's ass. His dumbbell wife Debbie's alleged use of steroids. What the hell does she need more energy and stamina for? How hard is it to carry her husband's credit card through Nieman-Marcus? Over and over. On and on. Hamsters accomplish more by spinning in their wheels every night.

And then there's Roger, the bloated piece of garbage who continues to display an inordinate lack of class just as much as he did when he first showed up in the major leagues back in 1986. Listening to his answers, he denies responsiblity for virtually everything. It was his mother who introduced him to the wonders of Vitamin B-12 injections. It was his wife who didn't tell she asked McNamee about HGH. It was his best friend Andy Pettitte who apparently "misremembered" his comments on steroids. Even I don't think that Pettitte, admittedly not the sharpest picture in the TV store, is that stupid. I'm betting the mention of that word prompted an unusually high number of hits on Dictionary.com. Come on, fathead, you couldn't possibly use that word in a sentence unless your sleezebag attorney Rusty Hardin put it in your ear the way people try to get dogs to remember their names. Speaking of Hardin, he needs to be disbarred solely based on the fact that he uses a live raccoon as his hairpiece.

The way Roger denied everything you would thought that O.J. Simpson and Fred Goldman would appear at any moment with a pair of gloves and a bloody Akita. To listen to Clemens, George Washington told more lies than he did.

"Mr. Clemens, did you once hit Mike Piazza in the head with a 98 mile fastball?"

"No, sir, I did not."

"Mr. Clemens, did you once throw a bat splinter at Mike Piazza?"

"No, sir, I did not."

"Mr. Clemens, did you ever leave the seat up on the toilet?"

"No, sir, I did not."

Indeed, if college kids made a drinking game out of the number of times Clemens denied a truth on Wednesday, most of our universities were drunk by Wednesday night. These days, the only person I ever believe is Vin Scully.

At the end of the day, nobody's opinion was changed. And the thought prevails that this will just go on and on and on.

And on and on and on and on. Just like everything in Washington, DC.

Dinner last night: Eggplant Parmagiana at La Bella Cucina.