Former senator and current scumbag John Edwards has been back in the news lately. Andrew Young, a former Edwards aide, just published a tell-all book called The Politician, which shovels the dirt on Edwards’ failed bid for the 2008 Democratic presidential nomination and his extramarital affair with former campaign staffer Rielle Hunter, who bore Edwards’s love child.
Allegations of the affair were first published in late 2007 by that fine bastion of journalism, The National Enquirer. Edwards initially denied the affair, but later confessed to it. He continued to deny paternity of the child until just before Young’s book was published, at which time he confessed to that as well. Turns out the Enquirer had it right all along. Take that, New York Times!
This seems like the typical politician-has-an-affair-and-a-bastard story, but this one comes with a sex tape. Young allegedly found a discarded videotape which Hunter and Edwards allegedly made of themselves allegedly having sex.
This begs the all-important question: why do people videotape themselves copulating?
I understand the appeal of porn, which generally features people more attractive than average, but I don’t get why the average plain Jane and Joe would want to watch themselves schtupping. I’m already well aware of my physical flaws without having to see them from a different angle on a TV screen.
I can sort of understand why beautiful people like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie might make a sex tape of themselves. For example, they might want to admire their perfect bodies or hone their technique. (“Nice dismount, Brad, but you didn’t land perfectly on both feet.”) And John Edwards is a handsome guy, but Rielle Hunter is no Angelina Jolie. Perhaps that’s why her horse-like face is allegedly never seen on the videotape.
My second question is this: Just how stupid does a public figure like John Edwards have to be allow himself to be videotaped playing hide the pickle with his pregnant mistress? He was a presidential candidate, for chrissakes! One can only imagine the conversation that took place before the camera rolled:
Rielle: Let’s videotape ourselves doing it, Johnny baby. Just for you and me. The tape will never fall into the hands of some disgruntled former aide who’ll make it public and completely destroy your reputation.
John: Whatever you say, baby. As long as we can do the Flying Squirrel, I’m all for it. Action!
The combination of hubris and narcissism that went into that judgment call is impressive indeed.
I can’t see myself ever making a sex tape for my own amusement. For one thing, I’d probably be the only person on camera. Even if I were to get a crack at someone like Jennifer Aniston (no pun intended), I can’t imagine getting out the camcorder for the occasion. Call me old-fashioned, but I’ll leave the on-camera diddling to the professionals. Besides, I’m not that sure my spiked dog collar would look that good on videotape.
On a totally unrelated note, the Vatican has published a new book that seeks to justify Pope John Paul II’s sainthood. The book, aptly titled Why He Is a Saint, reveals that Pope John Paul practiced self-flagellation. For those of you with a dirty mind and a limited vocabulary, let me explain that self-flagellation is the act of punishing oneself—in Pope John Paul’s case, whipping himself with a belt in order to be closer to the suffering of Christ. That’s some old-school Catholicism, yo.
This is reason number 12,041 that I am not a member of the clergy. In an effort to avoid being chased by a Catholic mob armed with torches and pitchforks, I will make no further comment, other than to say thank God the Pope had the good sense not to videotape himself in action.
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