"Oh, this is the biggest one I ever had. You hear that, Elizabeth?"

I'm coming to join you, honey!

Seriously, like Fred Sanford, I am actually having a heart attack. I've been having it since midday yesterday. They symptoms are classic. Tightness in chest, just to left of center. Today, it's central, though.

Anyway, the Internet told me it's a heart attack, so it probably has nothing to do with enormous amounts of stress exacerbating my preexisting anxiety.

But, enough about me. Let's talk about other people, shall we? It is, after all, C. U. Next Tuesday.

On our list: John Edwards.

Now. I've been planning a John Edwards post for quite some time. What do you say about someone who is naturally so hilarious? It's all so obvious.

For those not in the know, John Edwards, a vice presidential candidate in 2004, learned, just days after losing the election, his wife, Elizabeth, had breast cancer. A couple days after that, he was on the horn with his buds, making plans for a Presidential run in '08.

During his run for President, he had an affair with videographer Rielle Hunter. He later admitted the affair, but said his wife's cancer was in remission while he was poking Hunter.

He also denied Hunter's daughter was his, even though she looks exactly like him. (This is altogether creepy, because it just brings to mind a little golden-haired sperm cell smiling and winking its way up the birth canal, wiggling its way inside the egg, and then taking over the whole process of developing into a baby. And the egg looks kind of like John Kerry's head.)

So, then Elizabeth Edwards, who was (is) dying of the breast cancer that returned, wrote a book and did an emotional interview. She believed the lovechild is not his kid.

I'll wait while you go Google the pictures.

*****muzak*****

Right. So.

Now, Elizabeth Edwards looks all sad and pathetic, believing her philandering, self-impressed, deluded husband, thereby making John Edwards look like an even bigger dickhead. Which he deserves.

At this point in the story, we are all just sick of John Edwards. We forgot about him last year. No one gives a flying fuck about him, and we've all written him off as a lying sack of shit.

Then, last week, in the wake of the devastation in Haiti, John Edwards surprised everyone by admitting the lovechild is his, which means he was (is?) cheating on his dying wife. As if we all didn't know already.

It is here where I decided I would blog about it. I started a few entries. Didn't seem worth it. I mean, everything that can be said has been said, right?

Well, I'm glad I waited because the latest news just has me in a pickle.

John Edwards made a sex tape. With his mistress. While he was running for President.

Then, Edwards and Hunter were so careless with this video, they left it on an unmarked DVD. That's how Edwards' aide found it. That aide wrote a book.

The kicker?

Apparently, everyone who has viewed the tape has said, "Whoa." Edwards has a big Johnson - and I'm not talking about an inappropriate T-shirt marketed to middle-schoolers on the boardwalk.

That makes me angry, for several reasons:

A. Obviously, no one that idiotic or mean should be blessed with a large dick.

B. Look at that pretty boy hair, the lame tie, the dorky sweet Southern boy act. You see that package, you're thinking a rating of pity fuck, at worst, or - at best - a rating of maybe after a few bong hits and a 3 a.m. Royal Farms turkey sub run. At 3 a.m., after a night of partying and a large turkey sub with pickles, you are not expecting something large and in charge, am I wrong? No. I'm not. You're looking for something mildly pleasant to lull you to sleep. The second worst kind of false advertising. (The worst obviously being the hot guy with the good conversation and hilarious anecdotes who is really into you turning out to be - um - disappointing.)

C. If you get a gun permit, you have to know how to use the weapon. God gave you a large weapon, and that's how you use it? Really?

D. HE MADE A FUCKING SEX TAPE WHILE HE WAS RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT. THIS MAN COULD HAVE BEEN MAKING DECISIONS FOR THE ENTIRE FUCKING COUNTRY.

Jesus. Even Bill Clinton didn't make a sex tape. They had to prove it with a jizz stain on a blue dress.

Anyway. Now, how do you like the title of this post? *scroll up* I really am having chest pains, but I might make it after all. This whole saga was like taking a nice, cold shower.