Author’s program note. Just when you think the story cannot possibly get any more shocking…. it does. And this time, it shows President John Fitzgerald Kennedy exercising his undoubted droit de seigneur, using his over used marital bed to deflower a clueless 19 year old virgin, sexual plaything, to be used for and at the President’s bidding.

For this smutty story, I have selected Cole Porter’s 1938 tune “My heart belongs to daddy.” Find it now in any search engine… and listen to its insinuating tune and lyrics. I prefer the version by Valaida Snow.

The Facts.

In 1962 a wide-eyed ingenue named Mimi Alford got a plum position as intern in the Kennedy White House. She was young, dazzled, a virgin who had never been kissed, a top drawer social registry type… not bad looking either, although that wasn’t her most important feature. No, that would have been her instant availability… and complete discretion and unquestioning acceptance… whatever happened.

Mimi’s job description as intern probably read like that of every other Washington intern in history: go-fer, errand girl, always available, ready to do whatever, go wherever, to smile, and above all to obey without question.

Come swim with the President.

As such when she was, on only her fourth day, summoned to swim with the Leader of the Free World, she didn’t say why me. She said, when shall I be there? And from such unquestioning acquiescence everything else emanated. She was unquestioning, too, when premier go-fer and ultimate loyalist Dave Powers plied her with drinks. Down the hatch, whatever you say, sir. Then, in her alcoholic haze… the President of the Great Republic… a man on a (very fast) mission.

According to Alford’s just published memoir “Once Upon A Secret”, it was a forced encounter of the “wham bang, thank you ma’am” variety. The President maneuvered her to his marital bed, shoved her down, and without kiss, cuddle, or hardly a single word had his way with her…

And as he did, he put his presidency, his reputation, his entire life in the hands of a young lady (for she was that) who, thereby, became (in this way) the most powerful person on earth…

… but never knew it, never exploited it, never told anyone (especially not her parents) what had happened… waiting a half century before (at age 68) spilling the beans.

And maybe that is the real story… that Mimi Alford thought nothing out of line, even now, at what JFK did to her… unceremoniously, without any tenderness whatsoever, stripped her of her virginity… the word “rape” hanging in the air, a victim used, used whenever the Lord of Camelot deigned to think of her and demand instant relief.

This sordid situation, he summoning, he demanding, she unquestioning, she accommodating — and all regarded as perfectly normal and acceptable — went on for 18 months, until Lee Harvey Oswald stopped it; until then Dave Powers was charged by the President with arranging assignations however, wherever JFK wanted them… and he wanted them often, and always in ways that reduced sweet Mimi Alford to raw meat and nothing more.

And then it got worse, if that is possible. According to Alford, the President not only insisted on oral sex for himself… he commanded that Mimi so service Powers whilst he watched and savored… to their mutual embarrassment and shame. And so Camelot grew fetid and in need of strong lye soap.

And no one, absolutely no one thought this unusual or exceptional in any way whatsoever.

And so the Lord of Camelot had agent Powers deliver the girl upon request, just like Louis XV of France at the Parc aux Cerfs. “What does your majesty value most in a woman,” he was once asked, “Availability” was the trenchant reply… and no doubt JFK concurred.

And what of the little woman?

What was Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy doing as her errant lord rutted? For she knew, must have known, of this and the many other flagrant indiscretions.

She took refuge in what so many wronged ladies had done before: she passed her time as best she could and with what satisfaction she might… remodeling the White House, returning it to its pristine elegance and refinement. And so the piquant image takes shape…

Jackie Kennedy, chic, mistress of garment, coiffeur, jewel and hauteur, put her talents as interior designer to work, creating the necessary backdrop for the royal image she insisted she would have… whilst her husband, randy, careless, took every risk for a wisp of pleasure, thumbing his nose at every convention, selfish, hurtful to wife, confident that everything he did, whenever he did it, to whomever he did it to would be confidential, privileged, covered up, forgiven, forgotten.

So was Camelot born, a Camelot far from the one we knew… but believe in no longer.

So what then are we to deduce from this latest sordidness?

First, that JFK was expert in selecting just the people he needed to live the life he wanted. For, as this tale proves, he selected the perfect wife from whom he could expect complete and utter loyalty, whatever he did to affront their marriage; whatever he did to abase and humiliate her. She not only stood beside him, she accepted all his blatant behavior, whatever he did…

And he was able, such was his charm and charisma, to get men like Powers to do his bidding, even when it disgusted and diminished them.

And, of course, Kennedy, too, knew how to pick just the right women, the malleable women, the women star-struck by their practiced seducer, willing to do his bidding, grateful for even the smallest crumb from his table; accepting of the little they got, never asking for more.

And so their hearts, all their hearts, their loyalties and sworn faiths belonged to Daddy “Cause my daddy, he treats it so well.”

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today. Details at worldprofit.com

Author’s program note. Just when you think the story cannot possibly get any more shocking…. it does. And this time, it shows President John Fitzgerald Kennedy exercising his undoubted droit de seigneur, using his over used marital bed to deflower a clueless 19 year old virgin, sexual plaything, to be used for and at the President’s bidding.

For this smutty story, I have selected Cole Porter’s 1938 tune “My heart belongs to daddy.” Find it now in any search engine… and listen to its insinuating tune and lyrics. I prefer the version by Valaida Snow.

The Facts.

In 1962 a wide-eyed ingenue named Mimi Alford got a plum position as intern in the Kennedy White House. She was young, dazzled, a virgin who had never been kissed, a top drawer social registry type… not bad looking either, although that wasn’t her most important feature. No, that would have been her instant availability… and complete discretion and unquestioning acceptance… whatever happened.

Mimi’s job description as intern probably read like that of every other Washington intern in history: go-fer, errand girl, always available, ready to do whatever, go wherever, to smile, and above all to obey without question.

Come swim with the President.

As such when she was, on only her fourth day, summoned to swim with the Leader of the Free World, she didn’t say why me. She said, when shall I be there? And from such unquestioning acquiescence everything else emanated. She was unquestioning, too, when premier go-fer and ultimate loyalist Dave Powers plied her with drinks. Down the hatch, whatever you say, sir. Then, in her alcoholic haze… the President of the Great Republic… a man on a (very fast) mission.

According to Alford’s just published memoir “Once Upon A Secret”, it was a forced encounter of the “wham bang, thank you ma’am” variety. The President maneuvered her to his marital bed, shoved her down, and without kiss, cuddle, or hardly a single word had his way with her…

And as he did, he put his presidency, his reputation, his entire life in the hands of a young lady (for she was that) who, thereby, became (in this way) the most powerful person on earth…

… but never knew it, never exploited it, never told anyone (especially not her parents) what had happened… waiting a half century before (at age 68) spilling the beans.

And maybe that is the real story… that Mimi Alford thought nothing out of line, even now, at what JFK did to her… unceremoniously, without any tenderness whatsoever, stripped her of her virginity… the word “rape” hanging in the air, a victim used, used whenever the Lord of Camelot deigned to think of her and demand instant relief.

This sordid situation, he summoning, he demanding, she unquestioning, she accommodating — and all regarded as perfectly normal and acceptable — went on for 18 months, until Lee Harvey Oswald stopped it; until then Dave Powers was charged by the President with arranging assignations however, wherever JFK wanted them… and he wanted them often, and always in ways that reduced sweet Mimi Alford to raw meat and nothing more.

And then it got worse, if that is possible. According to Alford, the President not only insisted on oral sex for himself… he commanded that Mimi so service Powers whilst he watched and savored… to their mutual embarrassment and shame. And so Camelot grew fetid and in need of strong lye soap.

And no one, absolutely no one thought this unusual or exceptional in any way whatsoever.

And so the Lord of Camelot had agent Powers deliver the girl upon request, just like Louis XV of France at the Parc aux Cerfs. “What does your majesty value most in a woman,” he was once asked, “Availability” was the trenchant reply… and no doubt JFK concurred.

And what of the little woman?

What was Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy doing as her errant lord rutted? For she knew, must have known, of this and the many other flagrant indiscretions.

She took refuge in what so many wronged ladies had done before: she passed her time as best she could and with what satisfaction she might… remodeling the White House, returning it to its pristine elegance and refinement. And so the piquant image takes shape…

Jackie Kennedy, chic, mistress of garment, coiffeur, jewel and hauteur, put her talents as interior designer to work, creating the necessary backdrop for the royal image she insisted she would have… whilst her husband, randy, careless, took every risk for a wisp of pleasure, thumbing his nose at every convention, selfish, hurtful to wife, confident that everything he did, whenever he did it, to whomever he did it to would be confidential, privileged, covered up, forgiven, forgotten.

So was Camelot born, a Camelot far from the one we knew… but believe in no longer.

So what then are we to deduce from this latest sordidness?

First, that JFK was expert in selecting just the people he needed to live the life he wanted. For, as this tale proves, he selected the perfect wife from whom he could expect complete and utter loyalty, whatever he did to affront their marriage; whatever he did to abase and humiliate her. She not only stood beside him, she accepted all his blatant behavior, whatever he did…

And he was able, such was his charm and charisma, to get men like Powers to do his bidding, even when it disgusted and diminished them.

And, of course, Kennedy, too, knew how to pick just the right women, the malleable women, the women star-struck by their practiced seducer, willing to do his bidding, grateful for even the smallest crumb from his table; accepting of the little they got, never asking for more.

And so their hearts, all their hearts, their loyalties and sworn faiths belonged to Daddy “Cause my daddy, he treats it so well.”

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today. Details at worldprofit.com

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Author’s program note. So, whose bright idea was it anyhow; you know, to get Marilyn Monroe (of all people) to slither down the runway to sing “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” the night of May 19,1962 in the Big Apple? You know this film clip… everybody does. But just in case you can’t quite remember, go to any search engine and watch it.

It’s Marilyn Monroe, famous for never being on time, even by accident, in a skin-tight glittery number that breathes “Hollywood”, her hair not merely a “do” but a construction… breathy in the baby-doll way she made famous, the essence of ou la la on Earth…

… every move writhing, eye-popping, outraging moralists worldwide… every move launching a thousand stories about this Love Goddess and the bumptious Kennedy boys.

It was an image maker’s worst nightmare… because, in just a couple of minutes, it had the whole country kibbitzing about these questions: did she, would they, where, how long, OMG!

Oh, yes, this is the kind of film clip we love, because it adds to the Kennedy myth; adds to their chic, asks way more questions than it answers… and makes us want to know more about the family we just cannot get enough of.

Sadly… this is not the kind of Kennedy audio I have for you today; not the kind of Kennedy video either.

“No man is a hero to his valet.” (Montaigne, 1533-1592)

Consider the following scenario which will be played out today in thousands and thousands of conference rooms, CEO offices, board rooms worldwide: you called a big meeting, so portentous in its implications that you decide to film it because it’s a Very Historic Occasion and must be recorded, remembered, revered.

“Lights, camera — no action.”

But as you review the finished film, it’s at once boring, dull as ditch water, embarrassing, a close your eyes, hold your nose fiasco. The folks who should be in it are all in it, but they look, well… insipid, yawn-making, jerky in their movements, awkward beyond belief… redundant in what they say, unclear in the way they say it….yikes.

Now you finally understand why people like Stephen Spielberg get the really Big Bucks, because they know how to take the mundane and turn it into mesmerizing magic… the kind of magic that grabs you and just won’t go away; that holds you, keeps you, makes you want more and more and more; the kind of magic no where apparent in….

The new Kennedy audio.

As you may know, the Kennedy family has released quite a lot of footage the last several months. And now, in just released (January 24, 2012) tapes from the John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, they’re releasing some more. This time we see President Kennedy unsure of himself, desperately trying to figure out how to connect with middle class Americans, wondering whether he can really gain re-election after his Administration’s rocky start.

This is history all right, history the leveler, history that strips allure, that knows nothing about glamour and chic, history that turns the sharpest possible light on both men and measures… not only diminishing those portrayed, but leaving us sad, disappointed, wondering at how the mighty have fallen, pedestrian now, lessoned, mere humans after all.

“What is it we have to sell them?”

When JFK was running for president in 1960, at the time of the crucial Wisconsin and West Virginia primaries, his father said they’d get “Jack” elected by selling him like laundry soap. It worked. And so it was natural for President JFK to revert to the language of Madison Avenue, always working the marketing, the image, the public relations angle rather that the substance. “What is it that’s going to make them go for us?”

Listening to these tapes is like listening to a bull session at Harvard Business School, talking yes, but not engaged with either the subjects or the people… only one question of any real interest: how do we get re-elected; the most important, endlessly engaging question of all.

And so we see that the chief topic at the White House is the same as the chief topic at our house: not how do we do our job better… but how do we keep our job while finessing the substance… a question of consuming, gnawing interest… riveting, unsettling, engrossing.

The final 45 hours of secret recordings.

The newly released tapes lead up to the November 20, 1962 trip to Dallas and destiny. They provide a snap shot of daily life in a White House anything but Camelot. The President was concerned about Vietnam… but he was also concerned that the staff vacuuming the Oval Office blotted out what he and his advisors were saying. It didn’t seem to have occurred to anyone to shoosh the cleaners, asking them to return later. And so remarks intended for posterity were obliterated by an insistent vacuum…. This is how real life is… battery acid to fairy tales and heroic sagas.

248 recorded hours total.

Throughout his presidency, Kennedy was assiduous in his recording. He was enough of an historian to know how helpful they’d be to his memoirs, but I wonder whether he knew how deflating they’d be to his image, the golden image of Camelot? These muddled, grainy tapes, fascinating as they must be as an aperture to the presidential mind and hurtles, never increase our regard, but often diminish it…. until we wonder that there was any magic at all.

But the magic still exists… just not in these quotidian audio recordings.

It comes instead in a new documentary film by Rory Kennedy. It is a love letter to her mother, Ethel, a woman we have always wanted to hug and to know better…. and not just because she is the widow of Senator Robert Kennedy and the mother of his children.

Just released at the Sundance Film Festival, it brought the audience to tears, warm, welcome, refreshing, comforting; tears that show us that we are not yet beyond empathy, though we have all been sorely tried and near surfeit.

“Ethel” the film shows us a woman of conviction, joy, family, and above all else of faith, endurance and love. Most of all love which radiates through the many interviews with most of her sons and daughters. There are the mirthful moments, as when her abysmal cooking “skills” are brought up along with the unexpected tale of how she pranked J. Edgar Hoover, who so loathed her husband.. and the stark portrayals of the pain she has witnessed and endured; JFK and beloved brother RFK, of course, but also two of her sons, David (1984) and Michael (1997), dying too young.

Ethel Kennedy was silent for 30 years, never giving a public interview or comment. She wasn’t at all sure doing this film, even for her beloved daughter, was a very good idea. But I believe it was… and that the tale worth telling was told well… sustaining the dream that must never die… but which has been so eroded in one diminishing tape after another.

“Ethel” comes therefore in most good time, and welcome.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today. Details at worldprofit.com

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