NEW YORK, February 12, 1999
It is over. Well, actually, it is never over. But this chapter has closed. Finally has
the Senate has descended from the mountain, carrying tablets, on which are engraved the
new rules governing American political life. Just call them the Ten Post-Impeachment
Commandments.
Blame the accuser.
When caught doing something terrible, deny everything
and vilify your accusers. No matter how incredible your story, keep insisting that you are
the victim of a political vendetta. A lot of journalists, politicians, and most of the
people will actually believe you. (This will work for Democrats only.)
Never admit guilt.
If weve learned anything, it is that no matter how
compelling the evidence against you, never, ever, admit you are wrong. Whether it is
irrefutable DNA evidence or its political equivalent, just take refuge in the
technicalities of criminal law, the majesty of your station, and the intricate subtleties
of the English language to evade responsibility.
Seek vengeance.
Faux contrition is well and good
during a trial, but once you are cleared and enshrined as a martyr, its payback time. It
does not matter that you have spent months decrying "the politics of personal
destruction." That was then and this is now. Let it be known that your new
passion in life is revenge.
Demonize your adversaries.
Never mind that your adversaries are honorable people
doing their job, following the law and trying to get you to do the same. So what if they
are attempting to serve the constitution you violated? Nobody cares about that anymore,
and the polls prove it.
Mock the law.
Declare every legal action against you illegitimate
and every opponent dishonorable. The law doesn't apply to so long as you go about the
peoples business. Remember this above all: no matter what youve done (a) You didnt do it.
(b) If you did, it isnt that bad. (c). The law doesnt apply in this case.
Proclaim it "personal."
Anything they say you did must derive from something
personal that, unfortunately, became public. The utter beauty of this commandment is that
no matter what you do, you are immune from public judgment and the reach of the law. After
all, who among us is perfect and qualified to cast the first stone? And who wants to play
the role of sex police? Thus, everything is personal.
Enshrine the polls.
Forget the Constitution. Forget the law. But never
forget public opinion polls. Place these above all gods. So long as people like what you
are saying you can appear impervious. Ignore your oath, break the law, subvert your
office, whatever. Just keep that job-approval rating above 60 percent and, dude, you can
do no wrong. Mob rule? Perhaps, but its your mob.
Honor celebrity.
Remember, right and wrong count less than celebrity.
Make sure the jury is on your side. Once that happens, videotape, DNA samples and all
forms of incriminating evidence are useless to your enemies. They will nullify the case
against you "for the greater good." Tom Harkin did this right out in the
open at the Senate trial. He vowed to "take into account factors other than the law
and the facts." Is this a great country, or what?
Divide and conquer.
Pay copious lip service to national unity, but
remember that strength is found in raw divisiveness. Always preach unity while pitting
rich against the poor, black against white, old against young.
By these time-tested means shall you satanize your
opponents and convince your friends they desperately need you to protect them from
themselves.
Look out for numero uno.
This pertains especially to Republicans. If you are
confronted with an uncomfortable choice between honor and political expedience, devise a
creative way to appear principled while abandoning the principles of your party. Wise up.
The idea is to get re-elected, not to actually stand for anything. So, belittle the
evidence. If the evidence is overwhelming, ridicule the prosecutors. If that doesnt work,
ignore all the facts and say you are heeding a higher call of the national good.
Live by these rules and not only might you become
president of the United States, but remain in office, even when you've debased it.
courtesy of Robert Holman