In what must be indication that he's fully participating in today's holiday, Charlie Gasparino has a new column out this morning entitled "Blame Spitzer," which argues that the noted hooker fucker is responsible for the current state of AIG. The reasoning is that Spitzer, by ousting Hank Greenberg, triggered a chain of events (Martin Sullivan being named CEO, the company taking on more risk) that ultimately brought the insurer to its knees. (Chaz concludes that this is why we shouldn't allow Ness to make the comeback he's quite obviously been attempting over the last several months.)
In related news, we're pleased to report that's not even the most hilarious thing recently printed about the Steamroller. No, that title goes to a bunch of ink spilled in a Newsweek profile over the weekend, the source of which is none other than Spitzer himself, about his two dogs (one of which wasn't prepared for the limelight he was thrust into last March when his owner banged a prostie and another that was heretofore kept locked up in the house for fear Eliot would look gay walking him).
But dogs have needs that transcend damage control. And so the first images of Eliot Spitzer, private citizen, were of a man in baggy sweatpants, trailing after his wheaten terrier, James. The photographers followed them. "I explained to James that he was a good-looking dog," Spitzer recalls. "People wanted to take his picture." He didn't know what he would encounter outside his door, but there was nothing he could do about it. "You put up barriers and sort of prepare yourself."
A year later, he is still walking. Now he has a new companion. When he was a young politician with a tough-guy reputation, he preferred to walk only James and leave Jesse, the other family dog, at home. Jesse is a bichon frisé, the kind of dog that blue-haired women leave their fortunes to. "I wouldn't take her out in public," Spitzer recently explained. "I thought James was the better image for me." Now, most any weekend, he can be seen trailing after both animals. "It's like, OK, I have a bichon, a little white ball of fluff ... I don't care. What do you have to lose?"