Who put the “Party” in the Democratic Party? Bubba did, that’s who.

Dear Bill, we feel your pain. And, in the same spirit in which my father forgave me for wrapping his '82 Buick around an oak tree on the corner of Chestnut Lane, we forgive you for your transgressions.

Sure, you may be a bit of a weasel but you are clearly the Most Fun President this country has ever had. Did you know that your approval rating actually shot up after the release of the Starr report? Furthermore, the videotape of your grand jury testimony seems to be already surpassing Pam & Tommy Lee: Hardcore & Uncensored as the most sought after piece of footage on the internet.

How about these statistics: In a recent Time/CNN report, 67% of people polled said they believe you should not be impeached; 63% said you're doing a bang-up job as President; and 71% said your affair with Hot Lips Lewinsky was a personal matter not for public consumption. (So who's downloading all those pages of the Starr Report, right?) Of course, when asked who had the dirtiest mind, you beat out Ken Starr and Hot Lips hands down. While this may be a bit disheartening, I'm certain that if Marv Albert had been included in the list, you would have fared a whole lot better.

Bubba, you may not be perfect, but America loves you. Ken Starr, on the other hand, is quite a different story. He's like the kid on your block that you always wanted to beat the crap out of but could never figure out why. Now, we know. The independent counsel is a self-serving demagogue who has squandered millions of precious tax dollars on producing the most extensive piece of pornography in the 20th century. To hell with starving mouths, here's 2,800 pages of muck that will bring Slick Willie to his knees. Nice job, Ken, you should be fried in oil.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Wild Bill Clinton...

No doubt about it, Bubba, you are a wild man. Certainly, you're not the first guy to ever get a blow job, but you just may well be the first to ever receive one while talking on the phone to Yassir Arafat. Is this an impeachable offense? No, but lying about it is and that's the irony of it all. What should we expect from you, to spill your sins at a State of the Union Address? My fellow Americans, this is your president, Bill Clinton, and I just shot my load off in the Oval Office...

The worst I can say about you, Bill, is this: If Monica contracts rectal cancer from some of those cigars that you asked her to impale herself with, you should consider yourself at least partially responsible. Other than that, from my vantage point, you're simply a man in the wrong profession. The commander in chief is obviously not a suitable job for someone with your talents. Basically, I see you as the opposite of Pat Boone, the fifties crooner who tried to forsake his apple-pie image by stuffing his aging carcass into a leather jumpsuit.

Just as rock & roll was not for old Pat, politics seems to have had its day for you, Bubba. Look at it this way: You're the one who brought sex, drugs and rock & roll to Capitol Hill. You're the good-looking smoothie that attracts women like bees to honey. (You might want to work on your taste in ladies, though, Wild Bill. Hot Lips is quite the porker and, judging by her string of e-mails, completely deluded. And Paula Jones? Oh man, don't even get me started down that path...)

So while Monica is clearly profiting from the whole sordid turn of events, negotiating book deals and lucrative modeling bids, you're clearly suffering. This needn't be. What to do? Well, have you considered a career in rock & roll?

Okay, last time I heard you play sax, you were generating some God-awful noises that I had not previously thought possible. But one doesn't necessarily need a truckload of talent to make it in the music biz, as Madonna and the Spice Girls have clearly proven, both of which, by the way, you stand a good chance of having sex with, should you pursue a pop career. I know I'm getting your attention now, Bill, so why don't you bone up on your chops and give Matchbox 20 or Hootie and the Blowfish a call. Who knows, Bubba, you may be just what their squeaky clean images need to afford them a permanent spot in the increasingly competitive world of rock & roll.