Get this. After Connie got the get, I got the get, too.

It wasn't that hard. I simply called Gary Condit and promised I would wear my little Harley outfit, leave all my
identification at home and sign an affidavit swearing that even though he's been married for 34 years,
isn't a perfect man and has made mistakes in his life, he still looks like Harrison Ford.

What follows is the unedited text of my not-so-exclusive interview:

Q: Mr. Condit, wouldn't hemlock have been more efficient?

A: Now let me finish.

Q: You can't finish. You haven't started yet.

A: Let me ——

Q: Congressman, do you have any idea how ineffably creepy you were in your prime-time dive with Connie
Chung and your other interviews? You came across like a poorly handled worm who would go to any lengths
to protect a lackluster political career. Never mind your blue dogs. What about your red herrings?

A: Well, I answered every question asked of me. So I answered every question, gave them every bit of the
details in the interviews. Uh, I told them everything they asked. Answered every question. I never lied.
Maybe they misunderstood.

Q: Like many Americans, Mr. Condit, I have Redemption Fatigue. I'm too tired to forgive any more
gray-haired-blow-dried-elected scoundrels trying to sin 'n' spin. I can't bear one more non-admission
admission — all confession, no consequences. Did you really think you could just follow the Clinton Rules
("deny, deny, deny") — trashing the women challenging your version, wrapping yourself in semantics,
blaming the media, indignantly portraying yourself as the victim and even repeating the phrase "that woman"?
It was sickening enough when the intern hadn't vanished.

A: Well, it's about forgiveness. My wife and children know I'm not a perfect man.

Q: Congressman, let's step back. Historically speaking, do you think this nauseating practice of
crisis- managing morality started when Dick Morris polled for President Clinton to see if he should lie
or tell the truth about Monica?

A: I have done the things that Americans are supposed to do.

Q: You didn't really believe that Diane Sawyer was on vacation from "Primetime" that night, did you?
You know she was home, lying in the dark with cucumber slices over her eyes, pouting and gnashing,
just like Barbara Walters, about not being the belle of Modesto.

A: Well, let me say I knew they were going through pain and anguish. And I was doing everything that I could
do to be helpful to them.

Q: I was really impressed that you do your own cleaning in your Capitol Hill office. Are you a Lemon Pledge
man or an Old English man?

A: Well, I'm not a perfect man.

Q: It was also amazing when you said that you and Chandra never had a cross word.
How did you manage that when you seem to be so controlling? I mean, you looked as if you
were ready to bite Connie's head off when she asked the same question over and over and over.

A: Out of respect for my family, and a request from the Levy family, I just can't go there.

Q: Chandra's aunt said you gave Chandra a gold bracelet, "a very nice piece of jewelry with a double clasp."
Congressman, how often do you give double clasps?

A: I've told you and responded to uh, the relationship question.

Q: What is your explanation for your extraordinary sexual charisma?
Why on earth did all these women go out with you?

A: When you jump to innuendoes or unnamed sources, you in the media have to take some responsibility.
Actually, I would like to see you apologize to the people for doing that.

Q: Aren't you grateful that the math in Congress is so tight that Gephardt and the Democrats had to hold their
noses and close ranks behind you for so long?

A: It was a gift.

Q: Isn't it time to drop the white- collar advocate and get a criminal attorney?
Abbe Lowell was so criminally lame on "Nightline," Ted Koppel even lost patience.

A: I've lost my civil liberties.

Q: Congressman, you're still having your "Condit Country" re-election fund-raiser in October.
What does your future hold?

A: It's the responsibility of law enforcement.