Archive for the ‘ Massueses ’ Category

AL GORE RUBBED WRONG WAY IN MEDIA MASSAGE

Hot enough for you? Probably. But I’ll get to that later. First, the hot news. Oregon authorities will not pursue sexual assault allegations against Al Gore. If readers blinked while perusing the newspaper or answered the phone while watching television, there is a good chance they missed last week’s report that the District Attorney in Portland has closed the investigation.

There were a few problems with the tale by masseuse Molly Hagerty accusing the former Vice President and U.S. Senator of inappropriate conduct when she came to his hotel room in October, 2004 to administer a back rub. Haggerty told the National Enquirer that Gore wanted a frontal rub—lower and faster—and even attempted to kiss her.

The initial complaint was not filed with police until two years later. And by her lawyer. Bet you can’t guess what the attorney had in mind? Whatever the intention, the lawyer must have been sorely disappointed. Hagerty refused to cooperate with police and the case was dropped.

Four years passes before the Enquirer publishes the masseuse exposé. Relying on the supermarket tabloid’s reputation as a bastion of journalistic responsibility, the mainstream media picked up the story. Why not? The Enquirer was accurate—perhaps for the only time in its history—with the revelation that former U.S. Senator John Edwards was the daddy of a baby produced by his liaison with a woman he hired to massage his ego during the 2008 Presidential campaign.

The Enquirer denies paying Hagerty to revive the Gore allegation. If true, she was cheated. Years ago, the tabloid sent me a check, unsolicited, for answering a couple of simple questions about Jimmy Swaggart. I don’t recall cashing the check, but my memory is probably faulty. Anyway, Hagerty reportedly refused to answer the D.A.’s questions about receiving compensation in the course of the most recent Portland investigation. There are also reports that she failed a lie detector test relating to her allegation. Nor was she able to provide the D.A. with forensic evidence as promised in her earlier claims. One might conclude she was a liar trying to cash in on Gore’s celebrity.

Not surprisingly, two more masseuses have recently had “recovered memory” experiences and accused Mr. Goody Two Shoes of similar assaults. The outcome of the Hagerty investigations is a setback for them since the  mainstream media failed to pick-up their belated claims. Regardless, the bogus scandals involving Gore expose a major shortcoming of contemporary journalism.

A Google search of “Al Gore+masseuse” reveals 264,000 references. Obviously, I did not take time to look at each one. But a quick view of a few pages discloses that most deal with accusations. Only a few refer to the outcome of the Portland investigation.

In Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, I cite a far-reaching sting operation by U.S. Customs agents as an example of the huge disparity between the beginning and end of criminal investigations and indictments.

Attorney General Richard Thornburg, U.S. Attorneys and Customs officials regularly overstated the importance of spurious arrests at news conferences during the Exodus sting operation. Journalists dutifully wrote down the names and allegations, but rarely questioned what turned out to be bogus charges. Nonetheless, the bloated cases made front page headlines. But after being tossed out of court, the verdicts were relegated to the back sections of newspapers alongside obituaries.

Worse, television reporters completely ignored the outcomes of the trials.

The Exodus cases I refer to in the book are not exceptions. Innocence is not news. The same journalistic rule applies to allegations involving public policy issues—especially in the hardball game of politics. Al Gore struck out several times trying to correct inaccuracies during his 1992 campaign as Bill Clinton’s running mate.

There were, for instance, the infamous stories accusing him of claiming to have invented the Internet. Gore never made such a claim. He did say he was a co-sponsor of legislation that facilitated the development of the Internet.

Nor did Gore exaggerate a claim that he and wife Tipper were romantic models for the best-selling novel, Love Story. According to a few rare reports that are accurate, author Erich Segal is to blame for the myth.

[A] reporter for The Nashville Tennessean who knew that Mr. Gore and the author were friends had asked if there was not a little bit of Al Gore in Oliver Barrett. Mr. Segal said yes, there was, but the reporter “just exaggerated,” Mr. Segal said. “He made it out to be the local-hero angle.”

So someone had “exaggerated,” all right, but it was a reporter for the Tennessean, not Gore.

Still, the claims linger on. Indeed, the Love Story angle was used in several recent reports about the Gore’s marital separation. In an era of lunatic birthers and the lies spread about President Obama, what can we expect? 

Although I could cite other erroneous Gore fables that have gained traction over the years, lets talk about the weather. It’s damn hot. Nearly as hot as the winter was cold. And how about floods and other strange weather phenomena. Just like Gore predicted.

However, we all know it has nothing to do with global warming. Ask the Republicans. It is a result of natural cycles. So how could Al Gore make such accurate predictions? He has no training as a TV weatherman.

I conclude he is a modern day Isaiah. Remember, the Biblical prophet faced a lot of embarrassment. It turned out, though, he had a direct line to God. Maybe God tipped Al Gore to future weather cyles.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career. 

AL GORE SAID, “RUB LOWER AND FASTER.” OR SO SHE SAID.

Only two people—an unidentified massuese and a famous politician—know what happened in a Portland, Oregon hotel room four years ago. She said. He said. And she offered to say a lot more about her encounter with Al Gore if the National Enquirer paid her a million bucks. The tabloid declined, but claimed she said enough in a freebie conversation. I can guess the extent of  information.

“Hi, I’m with the National Enquirer. Did you file a police report in 2006, accusing Al Gore of sexually assaulting you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Yes, but you have to pay me $1-million.

“I can’t do that.”

“Goodbye.”

“Stop the presses,” the reporter screams to his editor. “We’ve confirmed the story.”

There may have been more corroboration. But I doubt it. Through a spokesperson, Gore denies the woman’s allegation. But without trying to contact him, the scandal sheet went with a thinly sourced story of a woman, who waited two weeks to report the alleged attempted assault to police. Then, she withdrew the complaint. Now, nearly four years later, the story is revived. Do I smell a lawsuit? Is this the reincarnation of Paula Jones? Oh, Paula’s not dead. Just forgotten. At least by me.

Actually, massueses are part of my illustrious career. And a tale is forthcoming. First, though, a recapitualation of Gore’s rub down, which has the smell of a shakedown. For juicy details, I refer readers to a Seattle Internet news site.

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/dailyweekly/2010/06/al_gores_portland_massuese_pro.php

It doesn’t take a journalistic wizard to discern that the story is filled with holes. Yet, versions have begun appearing in the mainstream media. Editors must make decisions based on the fact that the National Enquirer was accurate in its revelations about the “love child” of former U.S. Senator and Presidential candidate John Edwards. Therefore, everything it prints must be true. It’s a sad commentary on the quality of contemporary newsgathering.

But here is a true story about an ambitious redneck reporter willing to risk his soul to get ahead (no pun intended) in television. I lift the anecdote from my “less selling” memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger. In 1973, the Miami Beach Vice Squad was among the early news sources I developed in my first TV job as the chief investigative reporter for south Florida’s then NBC affiliate.

Miami Beach morals protectors provided me material for the tawdriest story of my career. I launched a fearless probe of massage parlors. Salons with exotic names like Salome, Grecian Girls, and China House were actually “jerk-off” joints. Undercover detectives made the discovery while assigned to the dangerous task of getting massages.

 “When she began to manipulate my penis,” one arrest report stated, “I identified myself as a police officer and placed her under arrest. Did not ejaculate.” What a guy.

Based on the police reports, I proposed a single story to News Director Gene Strul. He wanted a series―plus corroboration. He sent me on a company-paid tour of every south Florida massage parlor that advertised in local newspapers. Traveling the grease circuit, I determined beyond a shadow of doubt what services were offered.

“Ironically, the movie Deep Throat has been banned from Miami Beach,” I intoned in my first report. “Yet, it’s possible in Miami Beach to purchase the real-life version of the sexual activity that is the movie’s theme. Oral sex.”

I disclosed the services offered by thirteen places. An on-screen graphic designated “M” for masturbation, “OC” for oral copulation, and “I” for intercourse. Below each was a price list. A massage parlor at the rear of an auto body shop in an industrial area charged five-dollars for a hand-job. The bargain probably caused a traffic jam in the neighborhood. How I developed conclusive evidence of these services remains confidential. To paraphrase a Las Vegas motto, what happens in massage parlors, stays in massage parlors.

However, if the National Enquirer will give me a million bucks, or any fraction thereof, I will gladly share my secrets. And speaking of journalism low-lifes, how about the Minnestoa “reporter,” who slipped into a 12-step recovery meeting to “out” the homosexuality of a gay Lutheran pastor. The group, a spin-off of Alcoholics Anonymous and similar confidential fellowships, was formed to help its members deal with their sexuality.

http://www.minnpost.com/braublog/2010/06/22/19134/lavender_outs_lutheran_pastor_–_by_crashing_confidential_support_group

The rationale for the so-called ”exposé” was the minister’s homophobic statements on a radio show he hosted. The “outing” appeared in a gay publication that, ironically, is headed my a man with 27-years of sobriety in AA. I wonder what kind of AA meetings he attends? There is no excuse for violating a tradition of confidentiality that other journalists have abided by for decades.

Readers of this blog and my memoir are aware of my 39-plus years as an AA member. But it was only after much soul-searching that I wrote about my  membership. That’s because my recovery from the depths of alcoholism defines me personally, spiritually and professionally. There is no way I could have otherwise given an account of my achievements—and failures. But with respect to identifying others in the fellowship, the Tradition of  anonymity is sacrosanct. I cannot imagine identifying folks who attend meetings without their permission to do so. And even then, only in a need-to-know context—usually in discussions involving AA friends.

For the most part, journalists have abided by the Tradition. Indeed, Alcoholics Anonymous celebrates its 75th anniversary next weekend. Thousands of members will gather in San Antonio, Texas to express gratitude for a program that offered a new way of life.

I will be among the grateful.

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.