Eliot Spitzer. What a schmuck.

I don't know about you, but I'm watching this whole Eliot Spitzer scandal with great interest.

As I'm sure you've heard, Spitzer is the former New York Governor who resigned just yesterday, citing personal failings, because it was discovered he was a long-time client of a prostitution ring that was under investigation by the Feds.  Turns out he spent upwards of $80,000 on high-priced call girls for about 8 years.

He's one of those sanctimonious, straight arrow guys who crusaded for truth, justice and the American way.  It was almost biblical the way he went after white-collar crime. He campaigned against corruption in government. His nickname was Mr. Clean. (We can only hope his dick is after banging prostitutes regularly.) And, last year he had signed a law that lengthened jail time for johns from three months to as much as a year.

As the scandal broke, there he stood in the embarrassing light of news cameras at a hastily called press conference, copping to his transgressions and sweating.  His loyal wife Silva, looking stunned and sad standing next to him. She looked so spaced out, I wondered if she were on Xanax, or some other pharmaceutical.

What is it with these fucking men? His wife is a beautiful, accomplished woman. A brilliant attorney who graduated from Harvard and gave up her own successful career to raise their three daughters and cater to her husband's political ambitions. And this is how he rewards her?

And what's up with Silva? Why in God's name is she standing by his side? He's made her an object of ridicule in front of the entire world. I'm sure she's doing it for their daughters. I'd have punched his lights out and let him face the harsh glare of the media all by himself with a big black eye. I'd have interrupted the reporters' questions and asked a few of my own: