I can't think why everyone's so shocked by Eliot Spitzer's secret vice habit. The sex industry is, as Paul Raymond reminds us, there for a reason. It also seems to me that as soon as a man gets loads of attention, and acclaim, even if it's for smashing prostitution rings, the credibility gap between his own estimation of himself (look, everyone feels like a dork on the inside) and the way the public has decided he's the messiah is just too wide for one balding, middle-aged father of three to bear.
The only way men like these can return to earth is to get busted. It's the old cry for help. He's saying, I'm not Mr Clean! I can't take being Mr Clean! It's boring and no fun being the good guy. Underneath my preppy attorney exterior, I'm a driven, alpha male and driven alpha males have needs. Needs you can only guess at. And they're bad. I need an outlet for my... dark side!
I predict a rapid rehabilitation for the hypocritical cheating old sleazebag. People are never happier than when an idol falls by the wayside. Bush is a born-again alcoholic. JFK was a sex-addict. What's a few prostitutes between Democrats?
He'll make President yet.