AMERICA'S MANIAC

Former Mayor Rudy Nosferatu.

The news of Rudy Giuliani being hospitalized in "critical but stable condition" has
shocked many. When was the last time Giuliani considered stable? 

I don't think Rudy will be dead by the time you read this, anyway. That would require holy water and a wooden stake. 

For Rudy, that might be a more preferable outcome. His downfall from heroic "America's Mayor" to drunken "Trump Toady" is the stuff of opera on par with Otello or Pagliacci. The first involves political intrigue, the second, a buffoon. Both are fitting.

For anyone who lived in New York from the 1980s as I did, the difference between the Koch/Dinkins years and Rudy's two terms was something out of a classic Western: a new sheriff arrived to clean up a once-great, now lawless city. 

Rudy in his human form.

And when I say "clean up", I mean it literally. Sidewalks, subways, gutters were seemingly overnight cleared of trash, dogshit, and graffiti overnight. Where crime once ruled, order returned. Tourism rose along with new businesses big and small. 

Yes, Rudy could be arrogant, and certainly some cops felt like they were allowed to do whatever they wanted for the sake of "law and order". But overall, living in New York was something to be proud of, thanks to our new mayor. 

People felt safe for the first time in years, perhaps decades. Giuliani's leadership -- stoic, honest, compassionate -- got the city through the aftermath of 9/11, offering him a national platform no mayor had enjoyed since Fiorello LaGuardia. Unless you consider Ed Koch's "How'm I doin'?" routine a platform.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Hell, I was ready to vote for Rudy for president in 2008. But by then, his New

York style of Republicanism -- pro-gun control, pro-gay rights, among other beliefs -- doomed him. His campaign of skipping the early primaries in hopes of sweeping Florida (apparently the home of all ex-New Yorkers) was an idea equaled only by Jay Leno's nightly 10:00 series.

Those seven years between 9/11 and Primary Day might as well have been a century. The day after losing Florida, Rudy called it quits. 

The only place Hillary and Rudy could smile
together was at Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum.

Rudy could have used his remaining years doing stuff all ex-politicians do. Penning his memoirs. Making speeches. Taking seven-figure, no-show "consulting" jobs. He'd likely have been a welcome presence on Saturday Night Live from time to time. And he always, always would have been introduced as "America's Mayor". Not a bad way to end a career if you think about it.

Only there was one thing Rudy Giuliani appeared to think about. Like his friend Donald Trump, he was consumed by revenge. First, for not being president. Second -- and this was far worse -- realizing his planned Senate run came to naught once Hillary Clinton entered the race. 

This is what selling your soul looks like.

I don't have to recount what happened afterwards, other than to describe it as

two decades of self-humiliation and immolation. To go into further detail would take a biographer on the level of Robert Caro. 

A simple Google Image search of "Rudy Giuliani" shows the steady decline into decrepit distemper. The image of "America's Mayor" walking with police at the rubble of the World Trade Center has been replaced by a pop-eyed maniac sweating cheap hair dye down his face while spreading nutty conspiracy theories. 

Critical? Yes. Stable? Not in a New York minute.

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