They Call Me ... MISTER Dick

The Washington Post has tawdry tales of Dickie Mellon Scaife, the hourly patron saint of the American Spectator:

In December of that year [2005], Scannell followed Richard Scaife to nearby North Huntingdon, home of Doug's Motel, a place where the TVs are bolted to the furniture and rooms can be rented in three-hour increments, for $28. (It's now under new management and renamed the Huntingdon Inn. Head east on Route 8, then east on Route 30.) There, according to Scannell, Scaife spent a few hours with Tammy Sue Vasco.

Why a billionaire would shack up at Doug's Motel, of all places, is a mystery. Ditto his choice of companions. Vasco is a tall, blond 43-year-old mother who in 1993 was busted in a sting operation after showing up at a Sheraton hotel and offering to have sex with an undercover cop for $225, the Post-Gazette reported.

Social Register material she is not, but Vasco and Scaife seemed to have a relationship that went beyond the purely professional. The two usually met each other twice a week, for months, at the motel, says an employee of the motel. Scaife would show up in a chauffeured car, dressed in a suit, wearing cuff links, always bearing flowers. Vasco would be waiting in same room every time, Room 5 on the ground floor, facing the parking lot, said the employee. Mr. Dick, as he was known at the motel, would stay for two hours or so, then get back in the car, which had been waiting, and leave.

Will the wingnut welfare queens abandon Mister Dick in his hour of need (a pricy divorce), or will they follow in the (presumably metaphorical) kneepads of R. Emmett Tyrell and start renting Room 5 by the hour?

Update: Timmy -- not Tammy -- Graham of the MRC is already kneeling. He only wishes Dickie paid him $28 for three hours.