Keystone Kops
Letâs forget about who first slept with whom when and whether they stopped two years ago or last month â and talk about John Edwardsâ sheer incompetence. How on earth did he get struck so dumb he convinced himself he could keep a blonde in the closet for two years â with every other political reporter in
And what about his wife? Because she knew two years ago. So why did she join him and hand-in-hand dive straight off a cliff into foot-deep water â instead of saying, You go out there and do what other politicians have done: Announce youâve had a heart attack and the doctor ordered you to spend a year on a
Itâs like a whole series of Keystone Kops films: Edwards slips into Rielleâs arms, bungles running for President, bungles the cover-up, bungles the confession.
The confession â that was the killer.
Because Edwards still had some glimmer of a political future even after running head-on into those National Enquirer reporters in the basement of the Beverly Hilton. But he torched it in thirty minutes of talking to Bob Woodruff on Nightline. All he had to do was explain two foibles. His adultery. And the cover-up. But he slipped on the banana peel with the cover-up.
It turns out last fall â when Rielle first popped out of the closet on the front page of The National Enquirer â Edwardsâ ole buddy Fred Baron not only started forking money over to her and young Andrew Young â he picked their lawyers for them too.
So, a year later, before the ink dried on The National Enquirerâs first exposé there was one Edwardsâ hand-picked lawyer in charge of Rielle and another in charge of young Andrew â and the only ones talking to the press were the lawyers.
So hereâs Edwards with a flaky blonde, the fall guy, pay-offs, jet trips to the Virgin Islands for Rielle, and half a dozen lawyers hanging onto him â and he figures he can keep the cover-up a secret.
Somehow, blinded by lust just doesnât seem to explain it all.
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Keystone Kops
Letâs forget about who first slept with whom when and whether they stopped two years ago or last month â and talk about John Edwardsâ sheer incompetence. How on earth did he get struck so dumb he convinced himself he could keep a blonde in the closet for two years â with every other political reporter in
And what about his wife? Because she knew two years ago. So why did she join him and hand-in-hand dive straight off a cliff into foot-deep water â instead of saying, You go out there and do what other politicians have done: Announce youâve had a heart attack and the doctor ordered you to spend a year on a
Itâs like a whole series of Keystone Kops films: Edwards slips into Rielleâs arms, bungles running for President, bungles the cover-up, bungles the confession.
The confession â that was the killer.
Because Edwards still had some glimmer of a political future even after running head-on into those National Enquirer reporters in the basement of the Beverly Hilton. But he torched it in thirty minutes of talking to Bob Woodruff on Nightline. All he had to do was explain two foibles. His adultery. And the cover-up. But he slipped on the banana peel with the cover-up.
It turns out last fall â when Rielle first popped out of the closet on the front page of The National Enquirer â Edwardsâ ole buddy Fred Baron not only started forking money over to her and young Andrew Young â he picked their lawyers for them too.
So, a year later, before the ink dried on The National Enquirerâs first exposé there was one Edwardsâ hand-picked lawyer in charge of Rielle and another in charge of young Andrew â and the only ones talking to the press were the lawyers.
So hereâs Edwards with a flaky blonde, the fall guy, pay-offs, jet trips to the Virgin Islands for Rielle, and half a dozen lawyers hanging onto him â and he figures he can keep the cover-up a secret.
Somehow, blinded by lust just doesnât seem to explain it all.
Click Here to discuss and comment on this and other articles.