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Cameo: My, How You've Grown

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Wearing a dorky I.D.-photo grin, and treating the POTUS like some high-school letterman she'd gone sweet on, the Monica we first met was a little girl in a grown-ups' game. America gazed upon this foolish damsel, sized up her opponents, and thought, See ya. They probably did not think, See ya in midtown. What a surprise, then, to find the lass in our midst last week -- the picture of pulchritude, and suddenly pulling all the strings. Lucianne Goldberg cattily said Monica had chosen Bergdorf's over prison, but perhaps she chose New York over D.C. (where Linda Tripp destabilized democracy with the promise "I am you"). You're through with that company town, Monica; in this city we really know how to party. But you'll need to get some new clothes. That dress you're wearing has a stain.


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