Sex Gossip Begone: End the Tabloid Era to Fulfill America’s Potential

My grandchildren, Kelsey, 5, and Tyler, 2, will be adults in the next millennium. They will look back with wonder at the end of this century. They will call it the Tabloid Era.

With amazement they will reflect on this picaresque time: violence all over the world, suicide bombings, Iraq and Iran building nuclear and germ bombs, the Middle East on the brink of war, genocide in Yugoslavia and Africa. But all these headlines are subordinated to one story: the sex life of the president. Forget about the booming economy, ignore the low unemployment rate and the rising stock market, the sex life of the president dominates all.

Millions of dollars are spent trying to find the answer to these questions. Did he ask Paula for sex, eight years ago? Did he have sex with Monica, an intern? Did he grope Kathleen Willey? It continues with almost religious fever. The rest of the world looks on us with bewilderment and amusement, but the search goes on.

This all makes me very nervous. I feel eyes looking everywhere. You can’t be too careful. I start to delve into my own past. Let’s see, I remember that about two years ago a man presented himself at my front door. He announced to the maid that he was there to see his father.

“Who is your father?” she asked.

“Kirk Douglas.”

Before my maid could close her mouth, he continued. “My mother, on her death bed, confessed to me that Kirk Douglas was my father.”

When I was told this, I felt a constriction in my throat. I had made several movies in Europe and I must confess I was friendly with the natives.

“Did he say when he was born?” I asked, trying desperately to sound calm.

“Yes,” my maid answered, handing me a photo of a very attractive woman holding a baby.

“You met his mother in Stuttgart, Germany, during the war.”

I began to breathe more easily. I was in the Navy during the war, stationed in the Pacific. Years later, I traveled to Europe in 1952. I have never been in Stuttgart, but still I get letters from my “son.”

I have four real sons. Not long ago, I was having a drink with Michael. He put me in a warm mood telling me how proud he was of me for receiving the President’s Medal of Freedom.

“Dad, you took the time to travel all over the world, at your own expense, talking about democracy in America. I want to do something for my country too.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

“How?”

“Go into politics.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Politics!”

“Yes, politics,” and then I leaned toward him and said earnestly, “Michael, you are a star. You have made a lot of money. You did it. Now go into politics and do something for your country.”

Michael laughed. I was startled. He continued to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, Dad. Politics? And have them bring out that I smoked pot in college and I inhaled!”

I said nothing and he continued.

“And they will write about every love affair I had--or didn’t have.”

Politics has become a dirty game played with sex, bribery and corruption. How many young men and women with the right qualifications to help our country have avoided playing this game?

We have entered the tabloid era. All the media are contaminated by the cancer of sex gossip.

Our generation has certainly left a mess for our children and grandchildren to clean up. But I have faith. My mother, a Russian peasant immigrant, never tired of saying. “America, such a wonderful land.” We must have hope in our children. They will overcome the tabloid era and fulfill the promise of America.