It was August 8th 1998. It was 11:37 AM. It was the Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building. It was on the 17th fl. I was invited to a business meeting with a few local entrepreneurs organized by a close and well respected friend of the family. This friend was an ordained minister, a commissioner with the New York State Department of Corrections and at the time, dating my mother in-law. I'd shared many a Thanksgiving diner, exchanged Christmas gifts, as well as celebrated birthdays and other special events with this man I called my friend. He was a person I was honored to know.
It was August 8th 1998. It was 11:47 AM. It was the Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building. It was on the 17th fl. It was Harlem. Some the "Brothers" were running late. Being the punctual type, I was early enough for coffee. My friend order some while we awaited the others. It was 11:59 AM when a gorgeous young women with a beautiful smile entered the spacious office with our beverages. It was 12:02 PM when I realized how little I really knew about my friend.
It was August 8th 1998. It was 12:03 PM. It was the Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building. It was on the 17th fl. where my friend pulled the gorgeous young women with the beautiful smile upon his lap and held her around her waist. While she didn't resist, it was clear, her beautiful smile was fading. It was clear she was uncomfortable. It was clear my friend didn't care. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. It was 12:04 PM when I realized what was happening.
It was August 8th 1998. It was 12:05 PM. It was the Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building. It was on the 17th fl. when I fully understood what my friend was doing. This was a power-play. He had power and gorgeous young women with the fading smile had none. He was showing me the perks of his position. He had authority and he wanted me to know how that authority could be used. I couldn't look at the gorgeous woman with the now fake smile on her face. I was ashamed for both of us. It was 12:07 PM when I realized my friend had a problem and so did I.
It was August 8th 1998. It was 2:05 PM. It was in the parking lot of the Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building that I tortured myself over why my friend did what he did. What was he trying to prove? Why did he think I'd be okay with his behavior? How could he be sure I'd keep my mouth shut? How many women had he done this to before? How many more women would wear fake smiles in the future because him? But more than anything else, why the hell would would a friend put me in a position like this?
It was August 8th 1998. It was 2:35 PM. It was in the parking lot of the Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building that I began wondering what would happen if I did rat this bastard out. Who would believe me? His reputation in the community was beyond reproach. In his church, he was a living God. He was known for getting people back on the right track with their lives. He'd helped people get off drugs, into college and on to decent careers. He had more friends than I did. How could I throw mud on a hero? How could I hurt my mother in-law? It was 2:49 PM when I realized I would remember August 8th 1998 for the rest of my life. And I did-every indefensible and unforgivable moment of it.
Since its too late to make this long story shorter, I'll just say I did eventually tell my wife and a few others who'd listen, but I'll never be able to forgive myself for not confronting my friend when he did what he did. Because now I have to live with the knowledge that a man I'd called a "friend" was able to continue his abhorrent behavior long after August 8th 1998. Being slow to act, I had enabled my friend.
Bottom line: While this story has absolutely nothing to do with foreign policy, geopolitical analysis or international affairs (all staples of what we cover around here) it does have a lot to do with the 2016 presidential campaign. When Hillary Clinton became painfully aware Slick Willie had major issues when it came to taking advantage of women, one can only wonder how she processed what her husband's victims went through. She had to know how the powerlessness, the shame and the pain of being forced upon could damage women's spirit beyond repair. She had to know!
So when she dismissed her husband's victims as being merely part of a vast right-wing conspiracy, Hillary Clinton enabled Bill Clinton. Podcast below!
Populating basement apartments, spare rooms, attic spaces and sagging sofas of impatient friends and relatives, the ever expanding loser class is running out of options as fast as they’re running out of hope.
Short of getting a cup for begging, a cardboard box for shelter and depending on the generosity of strangers, what’s an American loser to do? I Know! Don't forget, Crime creates jobs too!