Friday On Friday - "John Edwards: The Fool Waha Interview"

The former Democratic Presidential candidate did not, under any circumstances, not even for a moment, sit down for this exclusive interview with BrooWaha's Bill Friday.

(The following is a reprint of an article published on August 11, 2008. A post-script follows at the end of the article)



John Edwards, so glad you could be here today.

For the moment, let me say thank you for having me here today. I am here right now, aren’t I?


Not as far as I know. First, let me tell you how much I’ve enjoyed the tour of your home. Just how many square feet is it?

28,200 on 102 acres.


Wow. I guess it’s true what they say about the size of a man’s carbon footprint.

It even has a 600 square foot guest bedroom over the guest garage.


You don’t say?

Yeah, well… lately I do.


Right, so… first question…

If you don’t mind Mr. Friday, before we begin, I’d like to read from a prepared statement if I may?


Well, I can’t say I was prepared for that but…

(Edwards clears his throat… whispers to Bill Friday)

Do I have time to fix my hair?


There are no cameras sir.

Hmm. Alright then. Here we go. It is inadequate to say to the people who believed in me that I am sorry, as it is inadequate to say to the people who love me that I am…


Senator?

…sorry. In the course of several campaigns, I started to believe that I was special and became increasingly egocentric and narcissistic…


Senator Edwards!

If you want to beat me up - feel free…


I’m thinking about it…

Mr. Friday, you cannot beat me up more than I have already beaten up myself.


Have you ever considered witness protection?

More and more every day.


Getting back to the questions… Mr. Edwards, in light of recent events… the allegations about this affair, your wife’s cancer… how do you respond to statements like this from your former campaign manager, David Bonior, who told the Associated Press that your supporters had, “been betrayed by [your] action[s].”

Mostly by ignoring them, Bill.

(laughs)

Seriously Bill, what I’ve found recently is that the best way to move forward is to never look back, because someone might be gaining on you.


Wasn’t that Satchel Paige?

Of course it was, of course it was! I’m glad you noticed that. Thank you, Bill.


Mr. Edwards, let’s get to the reason for this interview… on July 21st you were in Los Angeles for a press conference with L.A. Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa. At 2:40 the next morning, a reporter and staff photographer from the National Enquirer identified you coming out of a room at the Beverly Hills Hotel…

Aw c’mon now, Bill…


…who followed you into a restroom where, according to reports, you waited for fifteen minutes in one of the stalls until hotel security came and escorted you out of the hotel. What exactly were you doing in a public restroom for fifteen minutes?

I was on a conference call with Senator Larry Craig. It took a bit longer than I expected.


It seems as though you and the Mayor Villaraigosa have much in common. During your stay in L.A., did the Mayor have any words of advice for you in your time of personal disclosure?

He said, “Do your best to keep your mother-in-law away from the media.”


Mr. Edwards, you told ABC News that you personally never paid Rielle Hunter, yet Fred Baron, your former finance chairman, admitted on Friday that he made "regular payments" to Rielle Hunter, and that though unemployed, she lives in a $3 million home in Santa Barbara.

Like I have told everyone who will listen, I have never knowingly compensated this woman for anything, nor will I ever knowingly admit to such.


But you do admit to paying $114,000 to Ms. Hunter for her work on various campaign videos?

No, I do not! That’s just another Tabloid accusation, Bill. If Ms. Hunter was paid for services rendered to my campaign I will continue to maintain that I have no recollection of that until proven otherwise.


The question of a paternity test has been the subject of much speculation. Has a date been set yet for any such paternity test?

August, sometime between the 25th and the 28th.


During the Democratic National Convention?

I'm afraid so.


Is that a factor in why you’ll not be attending the convention?

That, and the Cabinet post I'll be receiving in exchange for my non-participation. The test is set for the Cayman Islands. Andrew Young and I had already made plans to be there at that time anyway… company time share, already booked. My people say if I don’t go, we’ll have to forfeit the deposit, you know. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll be able to make good use of the situation.


Staying on the subject of paternity, the birth certificate of the child…


Frances.


Right, um… Frances. The birth certificate lists no name for the father. Mr. Edwards, do you know who the father is?

Not yet.


Given the age of the child…


Frances.


Given the age of Frances, it would appear that you and Mr. Young were seeing Rielle Hunter at about the same time.

Bill, were you ever in a… fraternity?


But couldn’t you…

Mirthala Salinas was busy.


Senator…

Bill, please… call me “John.”


Alright then… John, doctors now say that your wife Elizabeth’s cancer is terminal - she is dying. Mr. Edwards…

John…


John… your wife is dying. What do you think her dying thought of you will be?

(silence).

Bill, may I finish reading from my prepared statement?


Sure.

“… I have been stripped bare and will now work with everything I have to help my family and others who need my help.”

(crumples paper)


John Edwards… thank you.




(Post-script: On December 7, 2010, Elizabeth Edwards died from the effects of cancer, at the age of 61. She was surrounded by her family and friends, but not her husband. On June 3, 2011, John Edwards was indicted on six Federal charges, including collecting illegal campaign contributions and conspiracy. Trial is set for early 2012. Rielle Hunter and daughter Frances currently reside in North Carolina. And as always, don't mess with the National Enquirer)


Look for more "Fool Waha Interviews" coming in the very near future with Friday On Friday.

Copyright © 2011 Bill Friday

Friday On Friday - "Friendly Friday"

When by their silence, they scream... “Please, just leave me alone!!!”

A "through the looking-glass" reply to the article The White Paint Chronicles (#0002), "Friday Friendlies".

“And [Job’s comforters] sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.” (The Book of Job, Chapter 2, verse 13 - English Standard Version)

What do you do when someone you care about is in pain? When by their silence, they scream... “Please, just leave me alone!!!”

Without a word, they send a message so loud it knocks you down. It removes all reason. It makes you want to walk away, want to forget, want to remember the past without the present. But the present is where the pain is... and they don’t want to share, even if there’s plenty to go around. So instead of just sitting in the dirt, surrounded by fools like some post-modern Job, they hide themselves from fools, and the words of comforters. They hide themselves... from you.

What do you do when their pain becomes your pain? When in your silence, you scream... “Please, just let me in!!!”

Without a word, you send a message so loud it sits you down. It gives you a reason not to walk away, not to forget, needing to remember the past in the present. Because the past is really where the pain is, and you’ve been there, but they won’t let you share... because they are smarter than that. Smart enough to not give you the chance to speak, for fear that your words, no matter how wise, might just make the pain hurt worse. Because that’s what words... the stupid, best-intentioned words of comforters, most often do... they hurt.

But because of the past that they live in the present, they can’t hear, in your silence, that all you want to do is sit with them... in the dirt.

In the silence.

Copyright © 2011 Bill Friday

Friday On Friday - "Insanity"

It’s gone... rooting and digging through the dust encrusted piles of pressed paper, like a shaking addict’s fingers through his own vomit, hoping to find one last undigested pill.

It’s lost... pretty, flowing words. A last living connection with dead memories, buried in the collapse of time.

It’s over... searching where there is no finding, again and again, repeating the insanity of what does not change.

It’s complete... unacceptable acceptance at the loss... of words, of control, of hope.  Yesterday is gone. Today is over. Tomorrow never promised.


So I write.

Copyright © 2011 Bill Friday

Friday On Friday - "Year Zero... Part 2"

It's the last Friday of the month... and with it, the second installment of "a feature within a feature".

A semi-personal reflection on the present...

Part 2 of a “feature within a feature”.

Time runs out

No matter how much of it you have, no matter how hard you try to give it structure and order and meaning, time runs out. However cluttered or empty your to do list, how early or late you start, eventually... time calls you a fucking idiot.

It’s not that time waits for no man, it’s that time mocks man. For the atheist, time is God... a deity without pleasing... taking from him everything until that day when either God or time, depending on your view, takes from you that last, most precious thing... the rest of your time. For the true believer, time is the Devil... the adversary of their souls... opposing every righteous plan until that day when time or God, depending on your view, takes from you that last, most precious thing... the rest of your time.

But in the end, the atheist and the true believer are left to lie down in the same dirt together, each ultimately sharing the other’s fate. Because in the end, and having been both... I know that they, whether they accept it or not... are both the same.


Looking forward

Who wants more than the man with nothing? Yeah, a real Zen riddle. Who wants more? Maybe it’s the man with everything.

The man with little tends to see only what’s in front of him... next meal, next beer, next crap. His desires are as simple as his needs... a place to live, food to eat, and the means with which to have them. It’s only when he has the options of choice that things complicate, and the clutter of his own mind begins to slow his ability to respond to the most rudimentary questions, like, “Do I wear the black shirt or the white?” and, "Do I have sausage or bacon with my toast and jam?” Screw the real questions that could be asked and answered with all the energy wasted on thoughts of Cheerios vs. Frosted Flakes, Chevron vs. Shell, or Twitter vs. Facebook. Life is graded pass/fail for no other reason than so few of its students could afford the tuition, so most of us just drop out with the hope to one day get our GED.

The man with everything, having everything to lose, can’t afford the one luxury of the one thing he cannot buy... the time for looking back. Because to maintain all that he has acquired, the man with everything can only move forward, always... like the shark he has become. To “…swim, and eat, and make little sharks” is the limit of his life. And the irony that attached itself to him like the remora on the shark’s back is that if he stops moving forward, like the shark, he will die.


Looking back

The man with nothing, changes. Not the nothing of living in a cardboard box and eating used burgers from a dumpster... but the nothing of a bled-out soul. As in a, “…the only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open” kind of nothing. Unable to look forward, because you’re not yet done being emptied of the sludge that passes for blood in your veins... Unable to look back, because that part of your life is dead, and has begun to smell like three-day road kill in the breakdown lane of the I-5 between Bakersfield and Fresno.

And because of this, you wait… with your eyes fixed on the wounds that you pray will free you from the putrefaction of the only thing you can remember doing for so long, that you can know nothing else...

Looking back.

If past is prologue, then what the fuck is this?

Copyright © 2011 Bill Friday

Friday On Friday - "At A Loss For Words"

“Where have you been all my life?”

I always wanted to ask you that question. For so long I was afraid... afraid of your reaction, afraid of your words, afraid if I asked you would just send me away... alone. Every word inside me wanting to blurt out at once without benefit of punctuation or breath... every thought, ill-formed and badly defined, needing expression, but lacking the capacity.

Because I am at a loss for words.


“Come closer, I need to see your face.”

I waited so long for this moment to arrive... the childish reasons, the stupid hesitation... now eyes grown dim with the passing of time. I knew your face once, when I was much younger... every lineless curve, not yet aged with the character of years, so full of promise... and I left you behind. And while I was distracted by every passing urgent need, you never forgot.

And now, I am at a loss for words.


“What was I even thinking?”

Going my way... playing at being a man, making decisions like a child... and questioning every one. Thinking didn't help... never could. What you could have shown me. Thinking what was distant and unseen would be better than what was right in front of me. More than youth is wasted on the young... sometimes it’s the wasted future, and the dreams, the fucking dreams... all dry to the touch and dusty with the years, and ready to blow away. Wishing that the past was now, and I had just followed my heart when it was all so temporarily clear,
and I was temporarily insane.

Would you forgive me if I am at a loss for words?


“Tell me it’s not too late.”

How often I would have asked that question, but you weren’t there because I sent you away. You said you understood, and I was glad at the time. The sooner I could be forgotten by you, the better it would be for me. I had unimportant things to do, and had to be about them and soon... because you had expectations and commitment is never for the young... until you’re old, and it’s too late. Reality called, and it wants my life back.

And it reminds me that I am at a loss for words.


“I was wrong.”

There, I said it. I want you back and I had to say it, finally, like you needed it... like I wanted you to know back when there was only us. But you moved on, and the words were gone.

And I am at a loss.

Copyright © 2011 Bill Friday