Saturday, May 06, 2006
BOSTON DRINKING COLLECTIVE CURSED
Stupid Patrick Kennedy. He shouldn’t have made those claims about Phenergan or Ambien or whatever they’re calling vodka these days. Instead, he should have told the police: “I am cursed. This is no fault of mine; it’s a family curse, and as such I am powerless to anything about it.” The media falls for it every time:
Thursday’s car crash, though, near the Capitol may just be the latest installment of what some consider to be the curse over the Kennedy family.
The curse renders Kennedys mere passive bystanders as events occur around them:
Ted Kennedy was at the wheel when his car drove off a bridge, killing a young female passenger, at Martha’s Vineyard in Massachusetts in 1969.
At the wheel he may have been, but the curse was driving. Melbourne’s Age also buys the curse line, and Rupert Cornwell at the Independent (“Curse of the car crash strikes the Kennedy clan once more”) anticipates cruel Chappaquiddick-style gags:
That affair became the butt of cruel humour, and this new accident involving Patrick promises more of the same.
All part of the curse, Rupert.
UPDATE. Thomas Lifson:
Cynthia McKinney’s reaction to the obvious and blatant favoritism enjoyed by Patrick Kennedy is likely to be something to savor. She is already on the record about the indignities she received at the hand of a white cop. But now she sees that for the white boy, supervisors stepped in, relieving the officers at the scene and driving the staggering Kennedy home.
She faces potential legal jeopardy, and now a rich white boy walks away without so much as a breathalyzer test from circumstances that would ordinarily demand a drunk driving investigation. At least one cop reportedly says he smelled alcohol.
UPDATE II. Andrea Peyser:
What a wimp.
Even by the exceedingly high standards of scandal pioneered by the House of Kennedy, Rep. Patrick is no JFK.
When he played bumper cars in our nation’s capital at 3 in the morning, appearing intoxicated - but later insisting he was just on pills - the shnook was alone.
That is, except for his pathetic bag of excuses and his famous name, which still holds the power to get a guy out of a jam without a Breathalyzer or a body-cavity search.
A body-cavity search of a Kennedy? They might find Arthur Schlesinger, Jr.