A Novel By James “Gatemouth” Ellroy (author of "Albany Confidential")

Chapter One 

Roger Stone  

"They sent him to New York to kill a Jew Prosecutor named Eliot Spitzer. He was sure he could do it.  

The Senate Republican Campaign Committee flew him. They supplied first class fare. They tapped their slush fund. They greased him. They fed him twenty cold a month.  

Nobody said it: 

Kill that Jew. Do it good. Take our hit fee.” 

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Retaining Roger Stone as your consultant is sort of like choosing Hannibal Lecter to be your caterer. One cannot pretend to be shocked when the bill of fare includes “Mr. Todd’s Pies”.  This was the man who closed down the 2000 presidential recount in Dade County, Florida, the man who created an anti-Hillary 527 called “Citizens United Not Timid” (I would cite it as an example of the depths to which right-wing hate mongering has plumbed to in our nations, if it were not so reminiscent of the stuff I now read about Mrs. Clinton from called "progressive" thinkers), the man who single handedly inflicted  box office poison Al Sharpton’s presidential campaign upon the Democrats in 2004.  Roger Stone has a picture of Richard Nixon tattooed on his back. Some have said that he also has a swastika tattooed on his heart, but this is surely not the case—they’d have to find it first.     

When I posted a piece outlining the Roger Stone conspiracy theory of Eliot Spitzer’s downfall, I wasn’t quite sure whether I’d written a parody of left/liberal conspiracy-think, or an example of it.     

But, I did harbor suspicions. Aubertine wins the election. Putsch has finally come to shove. After nearly 14 months, “Day One” actually seems to have arrived. And then, before the new child named  “Reform” could even be Christened (surely Silda would not permit a bris), it gets Kristened instead. Game, set and match. We’ve switched from squash to basketball. An hour into Paterson's administration, and Fred Dicker was already calling him the greatest Governor since Al Smith---what sensible person wouldn't be wary?    

All the wrong people in both parties were a little too bit happy with David Paterson’s ascension. It was Day One and everything had changed. Back. In the sections of his inaugural speech drawing the loudest applause, Paterson came to bury Spitzer, not to praise him. Ominously, he stated "I am David Paterson and I am the governor of New York State”, appropriating a line from the work of Aaron Sorkin, a well known and indiscreet connoisseur of high priced prostitutes.  

Then it got worse.   

It may have taken a black bag man who doubled as a nymphomaniac to locate the dirt on Eliot Spitzer, but David Paterson nocturnal emissions were so out in the open that even he himself could find them. It’s been said that the force of will which has guided the new Governor’s life comes from living at the mercy of his one unreliable eye; but it appears that the one unreliable eye people are referring to which exerts so much control over Paterson’s life belongs to his trouser snake. No matter, “charge it to the campaign committee”. Call it , “constituent service (with a smile) or even “polling expenses”. Roger Stone didn’t need his specialized knowledge in his seminal area of expertise in to find this out, all he needed was a couple of drinks with the only Democratic Presidential hopeful whose fortunes he ever tried to advance (although there are rumors that Stone also tried to help McGovern get nominated).    
 

Is the end game to make Joe “Phil Leotardo” Bruno our Governor? Or, will everyone be more happy with the political gelding (would that he were the other kind) who currently occupies the orifice? I mean office. Either way, it’s win-win for Joe Bruno.  
 

Given the forgoing, the incoherent speculation about Republican conspiracies bubbling up from places like “Mother Jones”, which make broad general statements but fails to lay out any useful details, is just an annoyance. Believe the rumors or not, they still required an explanation. I decided to play James Ellroy.
 
Ellroy's "American Tabloid" concerns the JFK assassination; his sequel, “The Cold Six Thousand” picks up the story with MLK and RFK. I never believed the conspiracy theories, but it was nice to have them outlined in a coherent and entertaining manner (“Tabloid” is only about 10,000 times better than Oliver Stone or Jim Garrison ever got with JFK’s demise).  I decided to attempt to do the same.  

But once I posted my attempt, I was deluged with a plethora of loud criticism from most of New York’s best bloggers, calling me a lunatic or worse. What’s worse, they sent it to my email, rather than my blog, which would have at least driven up my numbers. On Room 8, my readership trailed behind a hissy fit posted by EnWhySeaWonk after Rock Haskshaw obtusely blamed him for comments posted by others.  

Then came vindication:

 Beach man told FBI of alleged Spitzer sexscapades