During the Whitewater hoax, I could get a laugh out of reporters from
the great metropolitan newspapers by commenting that while political
corruption existed in Arkansas, it was like Denmark compared to New Jersey.
Born and raised in the Garden State (motto: "Oh yeah, says who?"), I never
saw Arkansas until I followed my wife home from school. The idea that
sadsack Jim McDougal's manic schemes could rival the zestful criminality
of my native state was an insult to its honor.
My father used to point out the home of a well-known Mafia figure not
far from where we lived. It looked a lot like Tony Soprano's place, only
with more fake Roman statues, like Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. The cops
later found a crematorium on the premises--a handy thing to have when
you're whacking more than one.
Elizabeth, where I was born, had the largest industrial fire in U.S.
history some years back. It seems the Mob had the toxic waste disposal
contract and was dumping petrochemical sludge into storm sewers at 3 A.M.
Somebody dropped a cigarette and the warehouse district burned for a week.
The smoke blew over Staten Island, N.Y. I told a Hendrix kid from Staten
Island who mocked my birthplace that she could thank New Jersey if her
firstborn child had a thumb in the middle of its forehead.
Then there was the insurance fraud "sting" where State Police staged
collisions with empty city buses in Newark and Trenton and videotaped people
hustling aboard to claim phantom injuries. They put some crooked doctors
and lawyers in prison. Making the sting work, however, required the unwitting
cooperation of citizens whose first thought on seeing a car smash into
a
city bus was How big a score can I make here?"
Anyhow, it's been pretty funny listening to Arkansas Republicans squawk
about the fast one Jersey Democrats pulled with their last minute replacement
of U.S. Sen. Robert Toricelli on the ballot after "The Torch" appeared
destined
for defeat. Geez boys, if people don't like it, they can always vote for
the GOP
candidate, right? As people there say: "You got a problem with that?"
Here's what I don't get. According to the New York Times, what got
"TheTorch" in trouble was maybe $25,000 to $30,000 worth of "gifts"
he
allegedly took from a crooked businessman who needed some favors. A big
screen TV, a home entertainment center, a wristwatch, etc. Neither the
U.S.Attorney nor the Senate ethics committee found evidence of bribery,
but it smelled fishy. It didn't help that Toricelli's got a cocky, abrasive
personality like the late Frank Sinatra's, another Jersey guy with an attitude.
So what I want to know is how Gov. Mike Huckabee gets away with it?
Is it that he's a man of the cloth, and Arkansans are used to preachers
with
their hands out? Expensively-tailored cloth at that. "In the year 2000
alone,
Huckabee and his wife, Janet, reports Ernest Dumas in the Arkansas Times
"received gifts worth $112,366, including clothing and clothing gift certificates
worth $23,000 from Jennings Osborne, a wealthy supporter whom he
appointed to the War Memorial Stadium Commission." That's more than
most Arkansans spend on clothing in their entire lives.
Or isit that Huckabee's so pious and genial as long as he's getting
his way? It's only when somebody criticizes him that Humble Huck turns
into Gov. Petulant, starts stamping his expensively-shod feet (many pairs
of
gift cowboy boots and shoes) and blaming everybody else. The Huckabees
have
treated the governorship like one of those TV supermarket giveaways where
you get to keep as everything you can cram into a shopping basket in ten
frenzied minutes. Except their spree has lasted six years.
Democrats have put out booklet of George Fisher cartoons called
"Banana Republic," after Huckabee's infamous description of Arkansas to
radio personality Don Imus. It contains a list of gifts reported to the
Secretary of State. All I can tell you is that when this avaricious duo
leaves
the Governor's Mansion, they can hold the Mother of All Yard Sales:
bass boats, fishing rods, bowie knives, clocks, flatware, chainsaws, security
alarms, barbecue grills, golf bags, guitars, faxes, purses, statues, paintings,
jewelry, cowboy hats, wrist-watches, weed-eaters, shotguns, pistols, etc.
That doesn't include SUV leases or $70,000 worth of furniture the
Huckabees claimed until their benefactor decided to say it was a gift for
the Governor's Mansion. It doesn't count airline tickets, nor Mrs. Petulant's
frequent use of State Police aircraft for out of state expeditions with
friends.
It doesn't list the pizzas and panty hose allegedly paid for with Governor's
Mansion funds. It doesn't tell how Huckabee lined his pockets by paying
himself and Janet as "consultants" to his own campaign.
And it sure doesn't say how Gov. Petulant gets away with it.