We were trying all day to think of one good thing that happened to us because of Eliot Spitzer’s epic fall from grace that took place one year ago today. We got our Cuddle Guv, whom we used to love but whose late-night booty texts we are no longer returning. We got Ashley Dupré, but what has she done for us lately? Oh, and we got Fred Armisen making fun of us. That’s … awesome.
But as we were thinking about that afternoon, when the word was spreading like wildfire across the city that the governor — our straitlaced, holier-than-thou, steamroller of a governor — was involved with a prostitution ring and was about to apologize on national television, alongside his wife, we remembered what we did get. The Pucker! We’ve been using it all year! When the economy tanked! When our banks failed! When the Giants lost to the Eagles! When all those cranes collapsed! When Anne Hathaway’s boyfriend turned out to be a crook! When the Mets lost to the Phillies! Where would we have been then, without the Pucker?