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There’s a story making the rounds that former Congressman Curt Weldon will not be charged in a seemingly endless influence-peddling probe that dates back more than two years. “It has been 28 months since FBI agents descended on Delaware County in the midst of a no-holds-barred congressional race, eliminating U.S. Rep. Curt Weldon’s chances of returning to Washington for an 11th term,” the Philadelphia Daily News reported over the weekend. “In October 2006, three days after media reports revealed the existence of an influence-peddling probe involving Weldon, federal agents raided the homes and business of the congressman’s daughter, Karen, and his campaign adviser, Charles Sexton Jr. But more than two years after the raids, neither the Weldons nor Sexton have been charged, and some legal observers say they may not be.”
Prosecutors have charged two people in the case: Cecelia Grimes, who is a lobbyist and intimate friend of Weldon’s, was charged with destroying after the feds found that she had tossed her BlackBerry into a dumpster at Arby’s. Russ Caso, Weldon’s former chief of staff, was charged with failing to report $19,000 of his wife’s income on a congressional disclosure report (though the income was reported for tax purposes).
According to the News:
Cooperating witnesses who strike plea deals are typically not sentenced until after they testify against whomever the government plans to target, according to John Lauro, a defense attorney and former Assistant U.S. Attorney in New York. “You want to keep that issue open and give the sentencing judge the ability to see the extent of the cooperation, which may have included testifying,” Lauro said. The fact that prosecutors want to proceed to sentencing Caso and Grimes “signals to me that charges against anybody else are unlikely,” he said.
If the case is dropped at this point, it will certainly be an embarrassment for prosecutors. All they’ve got to show for their work thus far are two guilty pleas from small players, on insignificant charges. (Caso’s “crime” pales in comparison to the actions of Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner, who failed to pay $34,000 in taxes.)
As to Weldon, perhaps the feds can’t demonstrate that he belongs in jail (though the congressman and a number of his colleagues have benefited due to the Speech or Debate Clause). One thing is certain, though–he doesn’t belong in Congress.
In addition to being a buffoon Weldon indisputably helped steer business to the lobby shop of his twenty-something daughter, who had no political experience; he similarly helped out the lobby business of the similarly inexperienced Grimes, a close personal friend; his children had a tendency to get jobs with his campaign donors and defense firms he helped out; he took his family on a European trip paid for by Russian and Serbian interests; and he used huge sums of campaign money to dine out at restaurants and stay at hotels. The list goes on and on.
In short, Weldon used his congressional seat to the great benefit of himself, his family and friends. It’s possible he did nothing illegal, but his conduct was clearly unethical.
More from Ken Silverstein:
Perspective — October 23, 2013, 8:00 am
How pro-oil Louisiana politicians have shaped American environmental policy
Postcard — October 16, 2013, 8:00 am
A trip to one of the properties at issue in Louisiana’s oil-pollution lawsuits
Many comedians consider stand-up the purest form of comedy; Doug Stanhope considers it the freest. “Once you do stand-up, it spoils you for everything else,” he says. “You’re the director, performer, and producer.” Unlike most of his peers, however, Stanhope has designed his career around exploring that freedom, which means choosing a life on the road. Perhaps this is why, although he is extremely ambitious, prolific, and one of the best stand-ups performing, so many Americans haven’t heard of him. Many comedians approach the road as a means to an end: a way to develop their skills, start booking bigger venues, and, if they’re lucky, get themselves airlifted to Hollywood. But life isn’t happening on a sit-com set or a sketch show — at least not the life that has interested Stanhope. He isn’t waiting to be invited to the party; indeed, he’s been hosting his own party for years.
Because of the present comedy boom, civilians are starting to hear about Doug Stanhope from other comedians like Ricky Gervais, Sarah Silverman, and Louis CK. But Stanhope has been building a devoted fan base for the past two decades, largely by word of mouth. On tour, he prefers the unencumbered arrival and the quick exit: cheap motels where you can pull the van up to the door of the room and park. He’s especially pleased if there’s an on-site bar, which increases the odds of hearing a good story from the sort of person who tends to drink away the afternoon in the depressed cities where he performs. Stanhope’s America isn’t the one still yammering on about its potential or struggling with losing hope. For the most part, hope is gone. On Word of Mouth, his 2002 album, he says, “America may be the best country, but that’s like being the prettiest Denny’s waitress. Just because you’re the best doesn’t make you good.”
Ratio of husbands who say they fell in love with their spouse at first sight to wives who say this:
Mathematicians announced the discovery of the perfect method of cutting a cake.
Indian prime-ministerial contender Narendra Modi, who advertises his bachelorhood as a mark of his incorruptibility, confessed to having a wife.
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Science’s crisis of faith