© Robert Sawyer 2013—All Rights Reserved
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Unfit for Office
Poor, and, unfairly forgotten, Jack Ryan, was denied the opportunity to serve his state, and our country, because of allegations his TV-actress ex-wife had made against him. Specifically, that he had taken her to sex clubs in old New York, where he asked her to engage in sexual activity in front of other patrons.
Mr. Ryan denied the allegations, which were secreted away, in court papers filed in a visitation dispute over the couple’s son. Somehow they “fell” into the hands of Democratic operatives, and...” Well, one man’s romantic getaway is another’ orgy. There’s a lesson to be learned here, and the one I found in Mr. Ryan’s humiliation, was not avoid actresses, but that I’m also unfit for office.
What a pity because here I am, ready to serve. After a quarter-century in advertising, an enviable career, involving many years of thoughtful collaboration, and work that led to more than a few unqualified successes; and after writing and publishing a book, in which I shared my thoughts and experiences, I’ve arrived at a point in my life when I might devote myself to the common good. Except, of course, for the rare and occasional moral lapses, the sum of which, in spite of my experience, expertise, energy and integrity, determines I am unfit to hold office.
What were my crimes and misdemeanors? Not murder, arson or larceny, but nonetheless sufficient dirt for my opponents and their operatives to dig up and smear until the public would pin me somewhere on the moral spectrum between the Marquis de Sade and Don Draper. Enough filth for the media—fierce watchdogs of the common weal—to broadcast and publish? I might as well save them the trouble. Guilty, on all counts—from recreational drug use to very casual sex; visits to bordellos here and abroad, assignations with call girls. Once a long time ago, an affair with an unhappily married woman. Yes, guilty of unkind words, a white lie or two, and a bit more arrogance than appreciated in most C-Suites.
Still, it seems a bit petty that I should be denied to argue my case, as the worst of my unsavory practices and poor judgement, even magnified by my sloth, envy, gluttony and anger, do not add up to a soul too corrupt to be redeemed.
Who knew that a young man’s experimentation, a taste for milk-fed veal, combined with a more mature man’s foolishness, would derail a political career even before it began.
“Reclining Nude.” Amedeo Modigliani, 1917. Oil on Canvass. On loan from The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.
So much promise. What inspired this youth to zig when he should have zagged?