We've been admonished to stop talking about people's private lives; read posts that should be the definitive response; join in a thread bashing of the sad protagonist to this tale; recognize that the story isn't going away; bash a journalist/pundit for suggesting there may be (or not) some effect on a particular campaign; and just share our thoughts, which can (and does) lead to more bashing of all parties.

I  think talking about it is a good thing. But I also think we have to talk about it from a more cool-headed perspective. Those who think the media's breathless coverage is overdone are right, but suggesting that this is a "one and done" story is not.

Once upon a time, I used to think like many of you: it's just a tawdry tale about sex, a private matter, forget about it, just move on. But I came to change my mind; a slow and unexpected metamorphosis.

In 1991-2, a charismatic, young governor from Arkansas and his wife were running for the Democratic nomination. Rumors abounded that the governor had had a long-standing, extra-marital relationship with a flashy blonde. It was denied, as were rumors of other infidelities. One day the blonde surfaced. Looking like Krystal Carrington of television's "Dynasty," she gave a showy press conference revealing the details of the affair. Audio tapes were released that seemed to confirm her side of the story. The denials were reformulated and an appearance on "60 Minutes" seemed to assuage voter concerns. Their marriage had been through a rough patch, they said. It was a "private matter," I said. "As long as it doesn't happen again," I thought. Surely someone who would running the most powerful country in the world would be far too busy to play "hide the salami" while on the job.

But I was caught off guard by the new allegations that the then governor had used the authority of his office to "connect" with women in his employ and use men in his employ to round them up. Persons close to the recently minted President assured me that this damaging information was being put forth by the opposition for nefarious purposes. Other damaging information was also being spread. I believed it had to be false. Consider the source I was told. And I did and I believed it was false. After all we had more pressing business to deal with.

One day, during a government shutdown during a budget stalemate, there was a pizza party. Unexpectedly, the President dropped by. Months later, rumors started circulating that a relationship had developed between the President and a young female intern. I believed it was false until facts forced me to believe that it was true.

However, like a lot of my friends and acquaintances and fellow Democrats, I believed it was a private matter between the man and his spouse. I argued that vehemently to practically anyone who would listen. 'What if they have an arrangement, an open marriage, and we just don't know about it?" "What business is it of ours to know what goes on in their marriage?" "After all, it's just sex. There are more important things to be concerned about."

I said that all through the long, drawn out investigation, through the depositions, through the House impeachment hearings, through the trial in the Senate, through the remaining days of his time in office, through the settlement announcements, through the day I bought his book.

One day, after the current President was inaugurated the first time, I watched a PBS Frontline series on the previous President's administration. That was when it hit me. I had been wrong.

It was never about the "sex with a woman not your wife in the White House." It was not telling the truth about it. And it wasn't just about not admitting the affair, it was the scope of the machinations to hide it. But what bothered me the most, now, on that day, was the realization that I had been given fair warning in 1991 and 1992. And I had not paid heed.

The problem with this new scandal of the former two-time Presidential candidate and Veep nominee, for me, is that he saw first hand what could happen. He ventured forth his damning opinion about the other President. And still he took a collossal risk and got caught. But worse, knowing that it was not the sex, but the lying about the sex that doomed the other President, he did not learn from that mistake, and committed it just the same. 

He saw how dogged the media can be once attracted to a story. He knew that ever since Gary Hart had challenged the reporters following him to prove he was have a dalliance with Donna Rice, that the same coverage and worse would be meted out for the likes of him -- and by that I mean the young, good-looking, charismatic, sexy politicians who would naturally attract female companions. (We can complain that McCain doesn't get the same treatment with regard to his affair some 25 years ago and the divorce of his first, or the rumored more recent affair with a lobbyist. True, but different.)

And what about her, the other woman? At fortysomething, surely she knew better, too. She knew he was married, had a grown daughter and two young children. She knew his wife had cancer, which at the time of their affair was in remission. She knew any affair -- factual or fictional -- was highly likely to go public. Whispers abound when two people not married to each start spending a lot of time around one another. She knew what was coming. Apparently, she took money to maintain her silence and compliance.

How one arranges the personal detail of one's life is one's business. Except that it isn't. That this affair came wedged between two runs for the White House does raise questions. That money was paid for silence does raise questions. That the private affair became a matter of a public lie does raise questions. That he should have had the judgment to make a better decision -- given recent history of what could happen to him -- does raise questions. That he chose the riskier path does raise questions. That he chose to lie about it or not reveal it about the time he confessed to his wife or when the rumors surfaced last year (thus putting an end to it) does raise questions. 

When this story broke, I raised the question of whether or not this would be the end of his political career. I didn't know then and I don't know now.

I do know that I can't ignore this relative to him. I do know I think less of him as a husband and father. I think less of him for lying about it. 

If he were the nominee against McCain would I vote for him? Probably, more than likely, yes. But it would make me suspicious of him, and defending him would be much harder. 

And now, having said that, I'm going to try to refrain from talking about it any further. At least not here.

Former NC Sen. John Edwards admits to ABC's Bob Woodruff that he did have an affair with novice filmmaker Rielle Hunter, but says he is not the father of her baby.

Is this the end of the political road for Edwards?

Nicholas Nickleby, by Charles Dickens, whether in its original, lengthy, sprawling book form or the torturous 10 hour play -- complete with a 90 minute dinner break -- offers up more characters, major, minor and incidental, than any other play or book you are ever likely to come across. As a stage play, actors play multiple roles, making a mad dash to the wings and to dressing rooms to change not just clothes, but characters. The critical task for the backstage crew (from the director, stage managers and production staff) is getting everyone to where they need to be on cue, and getting them offstage quickly. There is no place for the actor or actress who decides it's time to pull a Barrymore or Bernhardt and upstage his or her fellow actors. With so much story to tell, and even with 10 hours to tell it, there is no time for preening, or theater tricks like upstaging your cast members, or taking dramatic license to draw out the action -- or lengthen your part.

I have a friend who appeared in the early 80's revival in London's West End. One of his treasured bits of memorabilia from the production is a note to cast reminding them to get offstage and out of the backstage area (and for most of the actors/actresses, to get changed to their next character's costume).

I'm tempted to recreate that that note and send it off to our friends Bill and Hillary.

Over this last week, the Clintons have returned, if not to center stage, then certainly downstage left with enough stagecraft to pull your attention away from the main characters, Obama and McCain, to wonder what, exactly, the Clintons are doing.

Hillary, at a not so private meeting last Thursday of some of  her supporters speculated on a "strategy" to affect some kind of "catharsis" before finally "unifying" behind the party's nominee. The strategy entails some manner of allowing her delegates to put her name in nomination. Of course this happens after she has a parade in her honor, gives a keynote address on Tuesday evening and all but a heroine's welcome when she arrives. I imagine it will be spectacle on par with Cleopatra hooking up with Caesar.

She and her supporters suggest that somehow her "18 millions votes" still need to be counted, that the "voices of her supporters" still need to be heard, that they need to be respected.

However, I thought that is what the primaries were for.

As Chuck Todd finally acknowledged today on Hardball, Team Clinton (and the media) were complicit in perpetuating the myth that this primary season was really, really close and Clinton only lost by a hair. The reality -- as stated by Todd -- was that this was over February 19, when she had no better than a 1 in 5 chance to win. Todd suggested that it was probably more like 1 in 10. But the Clinton team persisted in trying to keep the storyline going that victory was just another primary away.

Meanwhile, a few steps over from Hillary, under a blue funk spotlight, Bill is still fuming. He's mad at House Majority Whip Jim Clyburn, SC, for telling Bill to rein in his instincts to use race to divide and conquer. He's mad at Obama, for winning, he's mad at Richardson and Kennedy and everyone else who endorsed Obama and not his wife (and by extension, did not re-endorse Bill). Asked whether Obama was qualified to be president, Bill took not only the long road home, but moved slower than a snail to arrive at a not-so-supportive answer. Asked if he regretted anything he said during the campaign, he replied "I am not a racist." Non sequitur notwithstanding, Bill's instant defense of himself as victim furrowed more brows: what was he thinking and where did that come from? It's as if I asked, "do you like macaroni and cheese?" and the reply was, "I didn't shoot my wife."

The Clintons, supporting players in this production Presidential Election '08, are demanding star treatment. They demand that everyone defer to them, that the script be rewritten for them, that the action revolve around them. The roles of president emeritus and first-runnerup are apparently just way too small. Their next roles of enthusiastic surrogates are just not special enough. She appears to be holding out for dramatic plot twist where "something happens (we can't say what!)" and he for the "I told you so" solo.

Notes to the actor and actress: your parts are over, please leave the stage. Quietly.