With a week left in the New York race for Comptroller, candidate Elliot Spitzer, the dick-for-brains-wanna-be-mayor-oops-comptroller, tried a Kennedy-ish rhetorical appeal for the women’s vote:

“My Daddy said everyone has their price.  So, ask not what your city can do for this piece of shit, but ask rather what this piece of shit can do for you?  Am I not the same man who spent $80,000 a year on prostitutes, contributing to these young girl’s economic stability and upward mobility? Who better to chase the whores on Wall St. than a man who has spent his entire adult life spending daddy’s fortune chasing whores up and down the East Coast? 

Question from Reporter #1:  Why should we support your candidacy if your wife doesn’t?

I’m so glad you asked that question.  Were my wife here today would she not say that I am the same man who chose to not burden, nor bother, his wife with his primal urges, fantasies of mediocrity and other unmentionable sexual proclivities?  I have shoe-boxes full of receipts to prove how much I do not bother my wife.  Do you dare think I am not adored and loved by these women?

Audience: No, no, no !!!

No?  Well let me ask it this way: Compared to the other pieces of shit, who have embarrassed themselves running for political office, am I not a more educated, upper-crusted, entitled, son of wealthy real estate tycoon and more likeable guy than say Donald Trump?

Audience: No, no, no !!!

 Question from Reporter #2: Why should we elect a man who broke the laws he was elected to enforce?

Yes, I am humbled by that question; and, yes, I am a servant of the law even though I am well above the reach of the law that is enacted solely to keep the little people in their place, blah, blah, blah …  And, I hasten to add, I do not dye my hair, nor do I comb it over like some Zero Mostel-Donald Trump look alike.  And I will never, ever embarrass you by sexting my genitals to anyone as long as my wife continues to stand next to me, whenever my dick, acting sua esponte, on a frolic of its own, takes control of my life and my sacred honor.

And, in closing, if you are reading this speech please know that as I speak, great big, salty tears are rolling down my upper-class, chalky white cheeks — designed to show all the little people how god-damned sincere I am and to get them off their fat lower-class asses and to the poles next Tuesday to elect me again to a position of trust.  And if elected, I promise to screw you all.