All houses unholy in Lewinsky affair

A plague on all their houses: Clinton's, the Republicans' and the media's. Now that the verdict's in, I don't feel like I'm trying to be a pundit if I speak my mind. President Clinton deserves all the criticism he gets for his weaseling answers to straightforward questions. "I didn't inhale." Sure, fine. You didn't inhale, but you experimented with marijuana, you held a joint in your hand, which would be illegal in the United States. So you engaged in an illegal activity way back when. Much of your generation of Americans experimented, Mr. President, and they wouldn't bat an eye if you'd said you'd done it. Instead, they squirm because you tried to weasel out of it with a lame excuse. Your dog ate the homework, too, I suppose. If you had been in the United States and the police had caught you holding the spliff, you could have protested that you didn't inhale until you turned blue, but they would have hauled you downtown. "I never had sexual relations with that woman." Sure, fine. Being fellated by a young intern is no more sexual relations than masturbation is, but the whole semantic issue is a misdirection. Fellatio is known more commonly as oral sex. So, whether relations were involved or not, most of us acknowledge that fellatio is a form of sex. President Clinton wouldn't, though. Contrast these denials with candidate Jimmy Carter's avowal that he had lusted in his heart after women. Although lust isn't illegal, admitting to it could have damaged his appeal to his core constituency. Yet, he admitted to his flaws. Given all this, it's understandable that Clinton's political opponents would seize on the president's disingenuous behavior and turn the petty denials of a man who will say anything, however ridiculous, to stay out of trouble into something more sinister. They may be right, but those facts certainly aren't in evidence or the verdict would have gone against Clinton. That the Starr investigation couldn't hang the president except on the idea that Clinton "perjured" himself in the Paula Jones case is either proof that the White House is the most tight-lipped conspiracy on Earth (with the strong implication that Bill Clinton is the smarmiest man on the globe) or that there's plenty of sizzle but no meat. There are probably many healthy American men about Clinton's age who would fantasize about a sexual encounter in the Oval Office. Power is an aphrodisiac, as Henry Kissinger supposedly said. We could only hope that most of them would choose to have the encounter with their wives or, if unmarried, with their longtime girlfriends. Clinton chose to do it with a subordinate, who could have turned on him and charged sexual harassment. It was poor judgment for him to have anything to do with an employee, especially on my dime! Any middle manager with a lick of sense knows enough not to do that, but not the leader of the Free World. Get thee to a one-star motel! The Republicans sin, too The theories fly about why the Republicans wanted to do Clinton in on the measliest of charges. One idea is that this was revenge for Nixon's near-impeachment. The similarities are eerie. If Nixon's sense of decorum wouldn't have been bruised by the idea, he could easily have said "but I didn't inhale." He did, however, say something about not being a crook. When people dismiss the Watergate break-in as a third-rate burglary, they miss its intent. It was part of an effort to, if not rig the 1972 election, to win it at any cost, without regard to the law. Breaking and entering in the defense of your candidate is considerably more like high crimes and misdemeanors than trying to cover up a third-rate affair is. Comedians joked that the Republicans were jealous of all the sex Clinton was getting, but I don't think Monica, Paula or Jennifer would be the belles of any GOP ball. There's also the "Republicans hate Hillary" theory. Hillary Rodham was one of their own long ago, and she converted to the other side. They are personally offended by that and by Clinton's deference to her. When Clinton said that if we elected him, we'd get Hillary for free, he didn't endear himself to the opposition party. Of course, this is the party that gave us Nancy Reagan -- who, like Hillary, was smarter than her husband. The difference, of course, was that Nancy Reagan was publicly deferential to her husband, even if she wielded tremendous influence on him behind the scenes and made him the politician he was. My own theory is that the Republicans are humanity's sorest winners. They lose a few seats in Congress in the mid-term elections and go ballistic. This despite the incontestable fact that they still are the majority party of both houses of Congress, which thanks to our Founding Fathers' checks and balances, means the Republicans wield power that's equal to that of the Democrat sitting in the White House doing all those nasty things. Yet, the party apparently decided they'd been whupped so hard that Newt Gingrich had to go. In addition, they can't stand to look in the mirror. In all things but the way he keeps his zipper up, the president is a moderate Republican, with a tendency to lean right on law and order and economic issues, but just slightly left on social issues such as entitlement. Of course, that last part means he exhibits a considerably less shriveled heart than most Republicans on the campaign trail. It's not that they don't do charitable things, but for the most part they are like the biblical Pharisees, who put on a big show of piety. So, let's tally it up. He cops their rhetoric. He gets more girls than they do. And, worst of all, a large chunk of the populace think he's doing a good job. The general public didn't want him impeached on the House Republicans' superheated claims that Clinton subverted the Constitution by lying under pressure, which many men would have done in similar circumstances. Clinton seemed to have inherited Ronald Reagan's Teflon suit to make him impervious to criticism. For Clinton to have anything in common with the Great Communicator, who was also known to tell a fib or two, must stick in Republican craws. It's the perjury, stupid! Let's take a look at the House managers' perjury argument. Although perjury is a serious offense, I wonder why. The House managers argued that the integrity of the judicial system rests on the belief that you must not lie under oath, and that if the president lies under oath, he must be punished just as any other person in America would be. Sure. This is all true as far as it goes, but they added that perjury by a president would undermine people's faith in the entire judicial system. Pardon me while I laugh. That argument takes as a given that faith in the system exists, that most people actually believe that no one is above the law. Tell that to a gang banger on the streets of Compton. He'll agree wholeheartedly, I'm sure, and he'll add that police never pick on blacks or Latinos. Everyone believes that the rich and the powerful get the same justice as you or I, right? I thought so. (Let me underscore that this is sarcasm, folks.) After Clinton's affair with Monica Lewinsky was uncovered, the general public understood why Clinton lied in this matter and sympathized with his vain effort to protect his family from scandal. The public sympathized even though it was Clinton's actions that brought on the scandal in the first place. They could see themselves in the same position. They figured he was a good president and a flawed human being, but that he was not a criminal. Their desire was that justice, the rule of law, be tempered with mercy. They knew that the House managers were trying to swat a flea with a howitzer. Mercy for Clinton was never in the cards these bitter Republicans held, even though they knew that Richard Nixon had been pardoned after a far more serious case was made against him. Maybe that's why Clinton, unlike Nixon, did not step down as president. Here are some questions I have about lying under oath: If no one is supposed to lie under oath, when defense attorneys know a client is guilty, what do they advise that client to say in court? Do lawyers advise them to tell the whole truth, or do they advise them to put the best spin on the truth? How many arguments would go to court if both sides were telling the truth? In court, the truth is always in question. Why aren't there more findings of perjury, especially in civil matters? Media salivated all along The media held its nose all through this, saying, "Isn't this a terrible story? But it's our job to inform you of every detail," and they dived in to report all the sleaze with gusto. I boycotted TV and newspaper reports about the scandal, and found that even 10 second sound bites on radio still told me more than I needed to know. The president's sexual activity during down time at the Oval Office is not my business. It's clearer now than it has ever been that the news business, despite its stated lofty ideals, is entertainment rather than an instrument of public discourse on issues that matter. The news from Minnesota is not what Jesse Ventura says, but the fact that he is a former pro wrestler turned governor. The news from Washington reduces complex governmental issues into bumper sticker sentiments. That which titillates has precedence over that which enlightens. Copyright © 1999, Salvatore Caputo

Sammy Sosa made Mark McGwire better

The Chicago Cubs' Sammy Sosa, the also-ran of baseball's home-run chase with 66 dingers, was voted the MVP of the National League today. The Baseball Writers' Association members, who did the choosing, were virtually unanimous. The only dissenters among 32 voters who made Sosa their first choice were two scribes from St. Louis. They voted for the only other slugger to hit more than 61 home runs in a season: Mark McGwire of the St. Louis Cardinals. If they hadn't, what would the home crowd have said about them? Without a doubt, McGwire holds the sexiest record in American sports. By hitting 70 home runs this summer, McGwire didn't just break the record held by Roger Maris, he played Godzilla stomping on Tokyo. People can talk about expansion-diluted pitching all they want, but it takes a real slugger to hit moonshots. We'd better hope that none of the balls he hit out of the atmosphere deflect an asteroid our way. For hitting 70 home runs, McGwire was acclaimed the savior of baseball. He helped bring people back to Major League ballparks. To hear wistful baseball fans tell it, McGwire was Babe Ruth and Albert Schweitzer rolled into one. Cheers were heard in parks where only the wind had moaned since the baseball strike of 1994-95. People came in droves to watch the guy take batting practice. They booed if their home-team pitchers wouldn't pitch to him. Clearly, everyone was ready for the record to be broken. Maris set it 37 years ago, breaking Ruth's 60-run record from 1927. Consistent Mark, surprising Sammy McGwire didn't want to talk about the home-run pace he was on. He said that it wasn't worth talking about breaking the Maris record until a player had 50 runs at the beginning of September. In fact, he started getting downright testy in the face of continuous questions about the home-run record. Although he did seem a little happier after he hit 50 by the beginning of September, he seemed hard-pressed to enjoy what he was doing. When McGwire's use of androstenedione, a muscle-enhancing drug, was questioned, he seemed on the edge of losing it. Sosa, on the other hand, seemed to relish attention. He quipped that he took performance-enhancing drugs, too: Flintstone vitamins. In the later stages of the home-run race, commentators all noted the difference between the way Sosa and McGwire took the pressure. Writers speculated that Sosa was grateful because he came up from the poverty of the Dominican Republic. McGwire had been dogged by the press much longer, and maybe Sosa wouldn't have been so happy if he'd been mindlessly asked the same litany of questions every day since spring training. Each year since the strike, people have put money on McGwire to break the home-run record. Sosa, on the other hand, crept up on everyone. A free swinger most of his career, he didn't get much notice as a slugger until he hit 20 home runs in June, setting the Major League record for long balls hit in a single month. In responding to questions after the MVP was announced, Sosa continued to say what he's said all year, that the real MVP and baseball hero this year was McGwire. He humbly accepted it, but gave the impression he didn't get why he should have been voted in over McGwire -- especially in a laugher. So who's the MVP? As do all judgment calls, this MVP award has its boosters and detractors. The debate heated up many a barroom and sports-talk radio phone line. The McGwire boosters say, and rightly so, that McGwire led the charge that made baseball vital to fans again. People who weren't fans knew who McGwire was and kept track of whether he hit one out on any given day. He set records in walks as well as home runs this year. However, most importantly, they argue, if 70 home runs -- a number that still leaves some fans giddy -- doesn't get you the MVP, what will? Sosa's boosters argue that he had a better all-around year than McGwire and helped put his team into the post-season. This argument also holds some water. I can't pretend to know what the baseball writers were thinking when they voted, but I have to agree with their choice. However, not for any of the reasons mentioned before. The X factor Sammy Sosa was the X factor that made the season interesting. The camaraderie that he and McGwire shared seemed to help McGwire lighten up and enjoy the home stretch of the season, just when it appeared he was losing patience with the whole circus. Without Sosa, McGwire's getting the record was virtually an inexorable, foregone conclusion. Imagine what the season would have been like if Sosa wasn't on his heels. Unlike the 1961 race between Maris and Mickey Mantle, neither Sosa nor McGwire was taken out of the running by injury. So there was some question as to who would end up with the home-run record this season. When Sosa hit 66, McGwire's answering shots became more dramatic. Now that it's over, people forget that the race was still on and it was an open question whether Sosa would overtake McGwire. If McGwire had been the only one in it when he hit 62, he probably would have let up. Cardinals manager Tony LaRussa said that McGwire did express relief that it was "over" after he hit 62. If not for Sosa, everybody could have gone home happy that Maris' record was finally broken, and that a new generation of ballplayers finally found their place in the pantheon where Ruth sits. However, the main reason it didn't stop there was Sosa. McGwire racked up 70 because Sosa hit 66. McGwire has the sexy record, and he'll be remembered by far more people for that record than any league MVP ever has been. If McGwire's record was the biggest thing to happen to baseball this year, then Sosa definitely was an MVP for keeping it exciting to the last day of the season. Copyright © 1998, Salvatore Caputo

Positively official: Bob Dylan 1966

I was in my freshman year of college, which I hate to admit was in 1970-71, when I picked up the best rock concert album I've ever heard. Nobody since, not the Sex Pistols or the Stooges, Nine Inch Nails or Kiss, has outdone the teetering-on-the-abyss urgency of Dylan's Royal Albert Hall Concert.

Now, 27 years later, long after I wore out the cheap plastic of the bootlegged double album, called Zimmerman in this particular pressing, I get to hear it without Like a Rolling Stone running out in mid-song.

The album was tucked away in the back row of a run-down record store just off campus. I had no idea what the two-LP set contained, other than it was a Dylan bootleg. I thought it would be outtakes from studio sessions.

Instead, it was a live album of what we know today was a performance by Bob Dylan at the Free Trade Hall in Manchester, rather than his Albert Hall concert from the same tour.

Savvy pirates

These bootleggers were smart. The concert was in two parts -- acoustic and electric. Dylan played the acoustic part first, but the bootleggers labeled the electric part as the first disc. Good move, because as emotionally charged and wondrously sung (well, compared to the way Bob sings these days) the acoustic part was, the electric part was even more so.

Dylan and the Hawks (you know, the guys who became the Band) played the most outrageous noise ever made, before anyone made up the rules for outrageous noise. To hear himself over the noise of the band, Dylan shouted the lyrics in a manner completely different from the acoustic set or from the way he sang before. (This was the beginning of the blenderized vocals he offers these days.)

The lyrics were always the point with Dylan, but his melodies usually were more than workable. He threw all that out when performing with the Hawks behind him. Instead they played the chord progressions and Dylan bent and twisted the melodies, making mincemeat of the intellectual meaning of his words.

The boy can rage

So what? The emotional intensity of the performance carried the weight of betrayal he wrote about in I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Met). The guy was definitely feeling it on stage.

This was a mean noise, but the beat, the volume, Robbie Robertson's stinging guitar leads and the undertone of Garth Hudson's organ, made it a liberating, joyful experience too.

The bootlegged copy of the concert I bought so long ago is hard to interpret. The tension between Dylan and the audience is indecipherable. Without being able to hear the audience, I though Dylan was putting the audience on when he screamed, "I don't believe you! You're a liar!" before he went into his closing song, Like a Rolling Stone. That's one reason the belated CD version that he finally released as The Bootleg Series Vol. 4: Bob Dylan Live 1966 -- The 'Royal Albert Hall' Concert is great. Listeners can hear the fuel for Dylan's furious performance.

The second side of my bootlegged LP was so crammed with music that the bootleggers couldn't fit all of Like a Rolling Stone onto it. Rather than fade the song out, they just let the groove run into the label, sending my needle skating across it and cutting off the music in mid-rage. The complete version of the CD is better, offering a chance to hear what would become Dylan's anthem, when it was fresh and without any inkling of the warhorse it would become.

Dylan has made way too many official concert albums of fairly mediocre shows. Only After the Flood, from his "comeback" tour with the Band in 1974 comes close to the fire of the 1966 tour. (Although the short set he did on Concert for Bangla Desh shows off the gentleman farmer Dylan of the early '70s to good effect.)

Regardless, Live 1966 is the only Dylan concert album you have to have.

Copyright © 1998, Salvatore Caputo

Interloper in the Moody Blues universe

I got to see the Moody Blues for the fifth time in my life on Sunday night. More times than I got to see Miles Davis or Captain Beefheart. Ah! The things we do for love!

What I'm saying is my wife is a huge fan, and I'm not, which is not to say that the Moodys don't do a good job.

On the contrary, they have one of the most polished and professional shows on the rock circuit. Contrary to my ignorant impression before my wife rediscovered one of the favorite bands of her youth, the Moody Blues can cut a groove that gets people up and rocking.

I guess the wall-of-sound style of Nights in White Satin made the Moodys seem so grandiose and genteel to me that I couldn't imagine people dancing to their stuff. That's what happens when you just scratch the surface of something.

If I have one gripe, it's that the format of their show varies so little. They have such a big body of work, you'd think people would tire of the same dozen or so tunes.

Two sides of life

To me, their music is just pleasant, tuneful stuff, full of wide-eyed sentiments about living and loving. But as I watched the crowd and, especially my wife, I could see that the band's songs served these people as a vehicle to The Other Side of Life, as one of the Moodys' best songs puts it.

In my wife's eyes, I could see dreams unrealized awaken. For the length of the nearly two-hour-long show, she imagined living life much larger than our humdrum allows.

I don't think it was nostalgia exactly, because the longing they seemed to exhibit was for a world they have yet to visit, rather than one they've lost.

That's quite a feat to accomplish, and few bands make their audiences feel it so thoroughly. At times, I wish I could go along for the ride, but musical taste is inexplicable. Critics take their stab at explaining why something is good or bad, but in the end, bad or good, something either moves you or it doesn't.

The bulk of the crowd at Blockbuster Desert Sky Pavilion on Sunday (and this crowd included fans of all ages) was moved by the Moodys.

Copyright © 1998, Salvatore Caputo