CONVENIENT APOLOGIES ARE AS WORTHLESS AS THOSE WHO OFFER THEM.
In 1992, after an Arkansas State Trooper told an Arkansas newspaper that I’d once been Bill Clinton’s older girlfriend, The Liberal Media bullied me-- wrote blatant lies about me.
Determined to make one quick statement to the Press —then “ride off into the sunset”---I welcomed the opportunity to tell my story to someone I trusted--a reporter-friend named Pat who worked for WSB Television in Atlanta.
Several weeks after our very-detailed, sit-down interview, Pat called to apologize, saying our taped interview had ventured far beyond his control. In fact, for weeks, the television station’s main executives had been in closed-door sessions with the National Democrat Party and Bill Clinton’s “handlers.”
Soon, The TV station made a major announcement: Atlanta’s WSB Television Station had been granted an exclusive Town Hall Meeting with Bill Clinton. Of course, the station failed to announce, publically, that Bill’s Exclusive Appearance was in exchange for the unaired video of my exclusive interview with Pat.
By now, angry with the Liberal Media and their determination to suppress my voice, I agreed to accept an invitation to appear on the Sally Jessie Raphael Show. I thought I could finally tell my story, my way.
However, I under-estimated the Democrat Party’s ability to control my story. When I agreed to be a guest on Sally Jessie’s talk show, I was unaware it was also the week of The Democratic National Convention in New York City. How was I to know that my highly-paid enemies were memorizing a professionally-prepared script--funded by Democrats-- while being rehearsed as guests for the Sally Jessie Raphael Show?!?!?
Only after the TV Cameras began rolling did the Democrats’ nasty plot reveal its self. Every member of the audience was a Democrat—a Convention Delegate-- and every one of them, carefully schooled in hate, stood ready to attack me.
Instead of being allowed to tell my story, I was forced, repeatedly, to defend myself. Even Sally—who I so-naively thought was fair—kept bombarding me with lies, accusations, and phony information. I was one woman--alone--against a well-orchestrated set-up. Yes, everything had been carefully-planned to make me look like a fool.
Single-handedly, I faced a roomful of Democrat Bullies, well-paid Attack-Dogs, and a TV Talk-Show-Whore named Sally Jessie Raphael. As a result of massive and perfectly-coordinated deception, I was publically gang-raped on Television.
I remember leaving the TV Studio thinking, from this moment forward, the Liberal Media can kiss my butt. They will never-ever get another piece of me.
Soon after my appearance on Sally Jessie’s show, I heard from a producer with Geraldo Rivera’s Talk Show and wasted no time saying NO to her invitation. Several days passed then Geraldo himself called and tried to win me over with charm, flattery, and flirtation. Inflamed by my repeated “NOs”—Geraldo raised his voice and began insulting me, calling me a chicken-shit… challenging my integrity by saying I was a liar. Geraldo even threatened to tell my story “his way” if I didn’t appear on his show. I slammed the phone in Geraldo's ear, with no regrets.
Follow-Up: One year later, Sally Jessie aired a Special Show. She looked into the camera and said that she was apologizing to a former guest, Sally Miller. In a pitifully tearful voice, Sally spoke about “How very-sorry she was for doubting me”.
She went on to say that the senseless attack she had hosted the year before should never have happened to someone as “Classy” and “Poised” and “Honest” as Sally Miller. She said the actions of the Clintons and the allegations from other women strengthened my story and now, she believed I’d told the truth about Bill Clinton.
I never heard Sally Jessie’s on-air apology. By the time it aired, I was safely in China. I only learned of Sally’s dramatic “apology” show after numerous people from America sent me a video copy of the show.
Sally Jessie’s follow-up was a waste of time and words. The damages done by Sally Jessie, her show’s producers, and the Democrat Party were deadly. Sally Jessie Raphael’s apology was an insult and fake--just like her.
From that moment, I refused to acknowledge anyone in the Press. Then a day came when a British Reporter named Ambrose Evans Pritchard unexpectedly walked into my life.
(For the rest of the story, read THE BEAUTY QUEEN.)