Vernon Jordan: Stinking Little Fixer
The Page Sixxies present us with this chestnut on Bill Clinton's bestest friend (in those times when it is politically and financially suitable to be such, of course):
"THE other night at San Pietro on East 54th Street, a mild-mannered, bespectacled, gray-haired man haltingly approached the eatery's owner, Gerardo Bruno. 'I, uh, think I'm supposed to be here,' he said, but didn't give his name. 'Please, have a seat at the bar. I should have something in a few minutes,' Bruno replied. Vernon Jordan, the Clinton-era power broker, up from Washington for the evening, jumped up from his own table, rushed forward, and told Bruno: 'Gerardo, for God's sake, give him a damn table before he buys the place!' Warren Buffett, the second richest man in the world, was seated immediately."
When Jordan jumped, did he emit a sort of high-pitched bitch squeal suggesting an uncommon degree of arousal? Proximity to money and power does that do Old Vern.
And when he rushed forward, pitched, no doubt, by a spasmodic fit of naked ambition -- did he introduce himself as "Mr. Fix-It"? (Averted gaze) Did he offer to take care of any clean up duties? Did he spontaneously evacuate his bowels like an excited puppy at the prospect of a lucrative alliance.
That Vernon Jordan.