When the first reporters came to me here in Sin City, from the very start they proceeded as if I had the burden of proving that a degenerate gambler was a liar, degenerate gamblers are by their very nature liars, they live a lie on a daily basis. The media people who came to Las Vegas wanting to talk to me about this behaved as if I sought them out. I did not seek them out, they contacted me. They asked me the most absurd questions, they behave as if he was a rock star and I am some teenage groupie. They asked me for cum-stained sheets, bloody or hash stained underwear, whips or paddles with his DNA still attached. First they tried to intimidated me away, that didn't work. Then Bennett & Co. tried to bribe me off (Elayne, his wife sent one, David S. Brown to perform the dirty deed on June 10, 2003) and when that didn't work, they settled for pissing me off. They were far more successful with this approach.
Everything humanly possible is being done to torpedo this from being brought to people's attention. I've had two hard-drive viruses, my front door lock vandalized in a failed effort to enter my home. My car locks were tampered with. Whacked out e-mails come at the rate of 20 per day and other silliness I won't bother to waste time mentioning.
In a chorus they (reporters) would ask me if I have any cum-stained sheets from our first encounter in 1998. At first I thought I was the star in a black comedy or that they were trying [like many subs] to have phone sex with me then I realized that most were Bennett's spin department coming upon malicious knavery to start my quiet. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know asking me sexually provocative questions like these would enrage me. It would only take a fleeting glance at me to know this woman would find those kinds of questions offensive. I did find them offensive and here we stand today. The truth untold. I guess one of his CIA psychological profiler buddies told him that any woman that wanted muscles would be less then pleased to be asked such questions (whips with his DNA still attached, hash stained underwear that hadn't been washed. His not mine, apparently I would be collecting soiled underwear). The never ending saga is in full bloom.
Most of them were writing books about the neo-conservative agenda in America and thought they could sell me the fried ice-cream tale that they were going to 'help me' get my story out into the mainstream if I was a little more cooperative...i.e. give me your story so I can sell it in my book, stupid. One even told me he'd introduce me to his literary agent and a radio talk show host (Al Franken) but I'd have to say 'please', you know what that got him (a good tongue lashing). Is this the behavior of people who want this told?
One very old ex-reporter who was also writing a book would send me endless sexually explicit e-mails detailing his fantasies (very professional, right?) his 'lustful utterances' as it were. He thought he was going to 'work' me for my story using this angle, the logic escapes me. All he did in fact was to reveal [to me] a very dark secret he had hidden from the world as a weekly columnist. He claimed his employer knew, but few others knew. I wonder what his loyal readership would have thought, had they known they were reading a scam artist.
This particular reporter also conspired with the National Inquirer to scuttle the story offering to be my intermediary with them for a small 'finders fee' from them. He tried this over and over. Yeah, the same National Inquirer that brought us the Kerry intern story. When I nixed that idea [and eventually him with it] He became irate and tried to bluff me into telling him what I had by calling me a scam artist. His name is Harley Sorensen and here is his scam. He kept this minor detail secret from his readers for years and I'm the scam artist. I think he contacted Bennett offering to sell him information, why else become irate when I said my goodbyes. He acted like I violated him in some way. In another of his earlier e-mails he talked about leaving something behind for his son before he shuffled off this mortal coil. I have all of this in e-mails [a great thing e-mails]. I won't name the other guy that asked me to say please, people around me say he has good intentions and just got a little intimidated by me and that was a knee-jerk reaction. Of all the reporters to have contacted me Michelangelo Signorile was the most forthright. Never did he pretend to be anything he wasn't. A man he is of honesty and trust (WS). The gay reporter has more man in his pinky finger then the whole lot of macho assholes trying to bull me out of the events that took place.
They want the story buried and don't care how they go about it. The editors that sent them needed a nice, neat, containable story told by a sweet (and weak) containable person. I don't fit that description. They want to trot her out on cue, tell her what to say, when [and how] to say it, stamp it case closed and back to business as usual. Misogynistic males (sadly to say) are in firm control of most major mediums of communication in this country. Misogynistic males come in all political persuasions, they are beholding to no political party. Don't fool yourself thinking they are only on the right side of the political aisle.
Ultimately, this is about power and nothing else. Who has it, who gets access to it.
They think of women as less than children. My story would perhaps start the 'monkey see, monkey do' syndrome (a quote from a friend).
Back to willy boy-Those reporters also asked if there were drugs present; did money change hands between us; were their any other women [or men] present; what was his sexual orientation and did we have a written contract, as they were told so many dominas have with their subs. (fyi:That contractual rule of thumb usually applies to a professional dominatrix with a dungeon. Some encounters of that sort can become very violent. A domina will sometimes require a contract for obvious reasons.) They honestly don't want to hear a story of a woman in charge of a man they view as a Washington D.C. power broker. Had I been the 'pleasure unit' type this story would have broke in June 2003, not June 2004.
I have played dodge ball with this issue now for over A YEAR and I'm sick of it. It doesn't seem to want to go away. Republican operatives that wrote me and now people accuse me of seeking publicity. One blog moron claims I wrote him months ago, tell him to post the e-mail, he's a liar. Like all the other republican operatives he seeks attention for his silly blog. I didn't even know what a blog was until mid January of this year, that's how much I follow the latest internet happenings. Over the past year I have waited patiently for a responsible woman reporter to come along so I could give her the full story. I don't believe in empowering men, they do just fine without my help. The good ol' boys club is alive and well. I'm not anti-man, I am pro-woman. I know that most male reporters share the same conceits for women as William shares for his [in]significant other. I also know the right leaning editors that have the final say don't want my story told in the first place. If I had a story similar in nature to Monica Lewinsky's and he had been a prominent democrat politicos this whole thing would have been front page news last June. Of all the reporters who e-mailed me 95% were republican seeking to whitewash this and make me out to be a lair. They came to save a favorite son. The ones on the left are so afraid of him I could feel them trembling on the other end of my computer.
This isn't a story for a weak person to tell. Are there no respected, strong, left leaning women reporters? We shouldn't pretend that political affiliation doesn't matter here because we know it does. In the end they wouldn't want a woman covering this one anyway, regardless of her politics. They know a woman would see what the real story here is. It's a simple story of a very unhappy man cheating on his wife, period. A story as old as time itself, there's nothing complicated happening here at all.
I've waited and waited but [now] my patience is at an end. So now I'm going to tell parts of my story here. I watched a tormented and very unhappy man, happy men don't voluntarily stay away from a wife and family they love for such extended periods yanking on the arm of a slot machine. He was a man unhappy in his work, himself and caught in the stranglehold of his own religious language of absolutes. Tossing away his money like confetti [*and that of others I believe*] in a hopeless quest to hit the big one. Numbing his pain was more like it. Every real gambler/hustler in Sin City knows that slots aren't the place to pursue the big one. Like with all major addictions his kind of gambling was a tell tale sign of a much larger illness.
Playing the modern day prophet whose divine mission was to save us from the wreckage of ourselves, our moral decay was eating us alive-Savanarola to the rescue-it was just a way to hustle up gambling money, period. This kind of thing is not new to us here in the United States of Las Vegas. A degenerate gambler needs money to pursue his addiction. He doesn't believe any of that silliness he preaches, Jesus in heaven and the holy father in Rome isn't who William Bennett claimed himself to be. I think he would like to have been such a person, maybe he even meant well, but like most of us he's just a mortal and got a little carried away with the message when the spiritually needy give him their ear. A mortal with a passion to be immortal, sounds like a typical Washington D.C. fantasy if you ask me. I assure you he was anything but that moral paragon of virtue he trotted out on cue. The role drained him. Building righteous empires has a way of doing that, if you don't believe me ask history. Like his other addictions (gambling, food) he just got caught up in a game and could't extract himself. Men are men, even the best sometimes forget themselves.
In regards to William Clinton, I don't think he hated Bill Clinton, I think he envied him. He envied his ability to rise to such a height, since they both came from nearly identical backgrounds. Clinton making it to the much coveted slot of the, all boys only club, leader of the [not so] free world. What I mean by similar is both of them being raised by single mothers and having step-dads. I know what it's like, having been there myself.
As for the attack machine that will no doubt pump up the volume, I say bring it on. One of the cleaver beavers I speak of is his brother Bob Bennett aka Uncle Bib (I like Bib better). I've seen your fight films, Bib (Helpless Monica and Scared Little Paula) and you don't look all that tough to me. If you wanna get in the ring with this Fenian you better muscle up. My prediction is the only part of this fight you'll win is the talkin' part, myself I'm more of the "hands on" kinda person if ya know what I mean (ask your lil brother). You're the only one here that's going to be doin' a jig, boy.
I have witnesses on both left and right coasts when that woman I spoke of [above] finally appears. These people (the witnesses) have their whole lives wrapped around the casino industry. They are told to be deaf, dumb and blind to the goings on in the casino concerning the guests (especially the whales aka high rollers). The same fate awaits a whistle blower in Las Vegas or Atlantic City that has befallen those in Washington D.C. that have exposed a wrong. The retaliators simply wait until no one is looking and seek revenge. If they outed a CIA agent, exposing her to danger and possible death, you can but imagine the insanity that awaits a normal 9-5 working stiff who is paraded before TV cameras to say what they saw regarding this situation. Where is the [six figure] casino executive that leaked Bennett's confidential financial information to the media last May? He wasn't required to speak on the record. Lets see how forth coming he wants to be-lets go ask him. I think I've made my point.
Leola Jean McConnell