Can she do The Weepy?

January 25, 1996|By Rick Horowitz

OPTION NO. 1: The Creepy. She goes to the grand jury and swears she had nothing to do with it. Law-firm billing records eluding searchers for years? Records suddenly turning up in the White House living quarters?

''I'm just as surprised as you are,'' she tells them. ''It must have been some sinister force.''

Can she do The Creepy? She can do The Creepy, but it's risky. She's not the only one being subpoenaed. Somebody else might know something. Somebody else might know that she knows something.

Option No. 2: The Gerry. Before anything even comes out of the grand-jury appearance, she holds another press conference and stays there, a la Ferraro, until every last question about Whitewater and the travel office has been asked and asked again.

'Once and for all'

''I'm happy to finally put this behind me once and for all,'' she says. ''Shouldn't you be getting home to your families?''

Can she do The Gerry? She can do The Gerry, but it's dangerous. Sitting down with Barbara Walters is one thing. Standing up to reporters who've been picking through the particulars is something else again.

Option No. 3: The Seepy. She lets details of her various involvements ooze into the public consciousness a little at a time. It's like watching the dawn break; there's never one startling, poll-plunging admission, but gradually people notice that they can see things.

''I had no role in the firing of the travel-office staff,'' she says. ''I didn't direct the firing of the travel office staff,'' she says. ''I had some concerns about the travel-office staff,'' she says. ''I expressed my concerns about the travel-office staff,'' she says. ''I . . .''

Doing the Seepy

Can she do The Seepy? She's already doing The Seepy.

Option No. 4: The Tammy. She stands by her man, demands the chance to testify on Capitol Hill and goes toe to toe with Alfonse D'Amato and the Big Boys.

''The American people can see this for what it is,'' she tells them. ''A partisan attempt to keep my husband from serving the good of the country.''

Can she do The Tammy? She can do The Tammy, but does anyone still believe she's just the loyal spouse and innocent bystander?

Option No. 5: The Sleepy.

''Billing records? Senator, I thought you wanted grilling records! See, the law firm used to have this barbecue every summer, and I . . .''

Can she do The Sleepy? Don't hold your breath; dumb doesn't become her.

Option No. 6: The Julie. (Andrews, that is.) She goes to Capitol Hill and announces that she's joining a convent.

''You won't have Hillary Clinton to kick around anymore,'' she says. ''Because, gentlemen, starting tomorrow I'm 'Nun of the Above.' ''

Can she do The Julie? Does the Pope eat bagels?

Option No. 7

Option No. 7: The Weepy. Instead of going foggy or fervent or feisty, she goes misty. She endures the questions and the insinuations and then, just before the net closes around her, she breaks into tears.

''I'm so ashamed!'' she sobs. ''All I ever wanted was a little financial security for Chelsea. But when people started raising questions and it looked like maybe I wasn't living up to my own ideals even though I hadn't actually done anything illegal -- well, I was so embarrassed I just wanted the whole thing to go away! I guess I . . . panicked.''

Can she do The Weepy? She can do The Weepy, but it's a stretch. People are more likely to picture her with a legal pad than a box of Kleenex.

The Creepy. The Gerry. The Seepy. The Tammy. The Sleepy. The Julie. The Weepy.

The Waldholtz.

Can he do The Waldholtz -- cut the cord and try to cut his losses?

In his dreams.

Rick Horowitz is a syndicated columnist. His e-mail address is horowitzomnifest.uwm.edu

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