Saturday, January 30, 1999 --- New York (APJP) -- Okay. I've received enough e-mail to choke Strom Thurmond's hogs -- all of it complaining that I haven't written a column for nearly a week.

Well, to be frank, I'm bored. Leave it to The Washington Post, The New York Times and National Enquirer. Or is it Inquirer? I never get it right.

I'm convinced now that what we are witnessing is the final thrash of the national media trying in vain to hang on to a story that isn't.

Why?

Follow the money: without the Clintons to kick around anymore, who in their right minds are going to tune in MSNBC to watch the towheaded "ghoul" John Gibson trash Clinton with his snide eye-rolling? What idiots (save our own masochistic editorial staff) will watch Tim Russert early on Sunday morning to see what this "porn-again" Catholic family man thinks about privatizing social security? Who cares? Even worse, only institutionalized ex-CIA agents will turn to ABC to see if Cokie has ultimately decided that her hairstyle went out with the Medicis.

I'm yawning.

Are you?

Okay. So we have the Senate sitting around like a choir of hens watching the Chief Justice of the United States doing his best imitation of the lead chimp in Planet of the Apes. Jug-eared Bill Rehnquist's remarks are so insightful. For example: "I don't know where we are..." or "The clerk says that is unconstitutional."

Doesn't he KNOW?

Then there's Senate Majority CheerLeader Trent Lott, who walks the floor with his ultra-chic lapel mike looking more like a discarded "Ken Doll" than a Senator.

But save me from the Democrats as well. Tom Harkin has been behind the only action on the Senate floor so far. He made a couple of stupid motions and then sat down.

Great. What a show.

Snore.

I'd rather see ex-Nixon creep Lucianne Goldberg get it on with that fat Black chick Julienne "Potatoes" Malveaux -- who unfortunately looks like Aunt Jamima serving flapjacks at a breakfast in South Beach than a "journalist." I mean, have any of you ever read a column under her byline? Malveaux -- the snottiest nobody on earth -- once snubbed me at a cocktail party for Arianna Huffington just because I mistakenly asked her for another drink... and an ashtray.

I shouldn't pick on Lucianne, however. Having to bear the cross of her son Jonah is punishment enough. In case you haven't heard, "Lucianne Jr." now has his own column! Even though it's unreadable, he's somehow conned conservative "eminence grease" Bill Buckley to put it on the internet under Buckley's private magazine banner. What gives? Buckley must be on a continuing acid trip to have allowed that to happen in the first place -- and then to continue it!

Monica's new book is coming out, insuring she'll become one of the richest Jewish debutantes posing as a two dollar whore in history. Did I write that? Can't wait to buy a copy for a buck at a garage sale next year.

But she looks great on the cover, thanks to the magic of Adobe Photoshop. Actually, Monica's my type: pale skin, good teeth, kind of fat -- but it's young fat. You know the kind -- still firm.

On to the substance.

Is anybody as angry as I surely am that the arrogant Senate is meeting behind closed doors so often? Doesn't that just piss you off? I mean, who the heck are these guys who feed at the public trough yet remain afraid to show us that they resemble a ladies club more than a deliberative body. The Head Lady is, of course, Ms. Lott, who spends more time with a can of cheap hairspray than on the people's business.

Then there's Bob Byrd -- a guy I once respected. He took a flier on the President just to prove how "wise" he is. But I'm betting he's beating Jesse Helms to the Alzheimers clinic. And don't let me leave out that phonier-than-thou Russ Feingold, who had the nerve to vote with the Republicans just to prove he really is a moron. Feingold, who pretended he didn't need money to run for the Senate, pulled the wool over the nation's eyes while rejecting PAC money just in time to allow Big Labor to spend millions to keep the suicidal senator in office. Feingold was skewered immediately after dressing to the right, and so far is behaving himself. But watch for him to pull another adolescent stunt before this is over.

The Republican senators are asleep. This is no exaggeration -- one journalist of our acquaintance actually saw Jesse Helms nodding off during opening arguments! Has anyone heard even one of them rise to ask a question?

Sheep.

Am I to get excited about the "Vernon Lewinthal" depositions to be taken next week?

No way. What I want to know is why the President didn't subpoena about two hundred witnesses -- with NBC's Tim Russert on the top of the list as proof of the very real right wing conspiracy. I mean, this really gets my goat. Here we spend five years defending the White House and they go for the acquittal without even putting up a fight? Give me a break.

So, sometime around the first week in February, we'll get to hear what Monica, Vernon, and Sid tell that blabbering idiot Lindsey Graham about who touched who where. And what's going on with that name -- Lindsey? Was he supposed to be a girl or something?

Graham. What an actor. If they gave out Academy Awards on Impeachment, he'd get one. His role was to be "the non-player" -- the guy who wouldn't belly up to the GOP bar and convict the President even before he was impeached. Remember him whining about how he'd have to be convinced to vote with those other clowns on the House Un-Judiciary Committee? Somehow, magically, he was convinced -- we bet it took about three minutes in the House men's room, when thugmaster Henry Hyde got him alone and read him the riot act about lockstep and goose-step. How about Gekas? What an apt name. He the folksy Pittsburgh type -- you know, the guy who used to work the line at the FOMOCO plant across the river. Then there's the Gary Cooper guy -- Asa Hutchinson. A name out of a cheap romance novel. Can you just see it now? A young southern peach, sitting on the verandah stroking his hair. "Oh Asa, Asa you make me feel so goo-ud...." It's enough to make you puke.

Henry Hyde, the Chairman, wasn't typecast for that role either. He looks more like the grandpa on "Life" cereal commercials. In reality, Hyde is more like a mobster and the absolute opposite of his physical persona.

I could go on, but I'm too tired. Anyway, I have to call Brit Hume and ask him how he's taking the news that Bill Paxon really is gay.

So, I ask you. What should I write about? Why the White House is "petrified" of Monica Lewinsky? Well, they aren't. So there. How about why John Ashcroft took a thousand dollar campaign contribution from Ken Starr a few months before Starr got his appointment as "dependent counsel?"

Why should I? Here's what will happen.

Vernon Jordan will make the House Theater Ushers looks like the morons and malpracticing lawyers they are. Sid Blumenthal will turn Bob Barr everywhere but loose. Monica will reveal that she really is a stalker. Ken Starr won't be able to get a job in a car wash. And Bill Clinton -- well, Bill Clinton will serve out his term, go to Hollywood and make a fortune as a casting director.

It's Hillary I'm interest in.

What will she do?

-- Mac MacArthur