Giving Roger A Bad Name

While I was away on whatever I was away on, G.O.P. mastermind Roger Stone reared his ugly little head again. Over a decade ago, Roger and his wife went cruising for partners in swingers' magazines:

And in 1996 he was forced to quit the Robert Dole presidential campaign after provocative photos of him and his wife appeared in "swinger" magazines.

The fact that the ads were paid for with his credit card undercut his denials that he had nothing to do with placing them.

That was back in the day, before the internet revolutionized group sex.

Roger next surfaced underneath James Baker, during the 2000 Presidential election recount, where the Republican vote total was as artificially inflated as Roger's endowment in his swinger's mag advertisements.

Currently, Stone, a friend of family man Rudy Guilani, was earning 20K a month working for New York State Senate Republicans, until he got fired for making a harassing phone call to the 83 year old father of N.Y. Governor Eliot Spitzer. Stone's current defense?

On Thursday, Stone offered yet another explanation: The call, he said, was made by a former stand-up comedian and master impressionist named Randy Credico.

"He's been on Letterman, he's been on Leno," says Stone. "He does an incredible [former senator Alfonse] D'Amato. He has made phone calls as me and the people he was calling thought it was me."

...

It's a tangled tale, but the upshot, Stone says, is this: "Credico became convinced that he should get paid for introducing me to Sharpton." He refused to do so, Stone continues, because, well, Credico is a cocaine addict and Stone knew that any money he gave the guy would "go up his nose."

A victim of circumstance, eh? Because that sounds a lot like Stone's defense to the swinger story:

An exhaustive investigation now indicates that a domestic employee who I discharged for substance abuse on the second time that we learned that he had a drug problem is the perpetrator who had access to my home, access to my computer, access to my password, access to my postage meter, access to my post-office box key.

How the domestic got the photo of Roger posing in a towel, well, that's another cock and bull story, I'm sure.