Wednesday, June 01, 2005

“HI! My name is… WHAT? My name is… WHO? My name is, chicka chicka [not Slim Shady]”

"I'm the guy they used to call 'Deep Throat'."

Wow, I was way off the mark when I dressed as DEEPTHROAT for Catherine’s 21st. I pretty much just wore a cropped black trench jacket [with some other clothes]. And I made some badges - one with a picture of Woodward & Bernstein on it and the words CREDIT HOGS, one with Nixon doing his ‘peace out’ moment at the helicopter and the word SUCKER, and one with a random slogan I made up, CARPARKS ARE THE NEW DISCO. It actually took me hours to make those stupid badges. And now I realise that my energies were focussed in completely the wrong direction. It's not about badges. It’s not even about wearing a trench jacket at a party while chainsmoking. It’s about GIANT GLASSES. And wearing them AT NIGHT... while wearing a trench and chainsmoking. I feel like such a fool.


Look at that grandkid standing behind him. You can read his mind. It is saying, “I am the new king of college campuses. I AM SO GOING TO GET LAID!

And la la la la sshhh. Don’t ruin today by even contemplating things like ‘pecuniary interests’ and other things like this:
He rose through the ranks of the old bureau under J. Edgar Hoover's autocratic rule, thrived on Mr. Hoover's imperious demands and carried out the bureau's harsh campaign against political militants, approving break-ins at dissenters' homes.
And don’t listen to Pat Buchanan either. He’s a goon. Look:
Speaking last night on MSNBC's "Hardball," former Nixon speechwriter Patrick J. Buchanan labeled Felt a "traitor" for having worked with reporters on stories that did severe damage to the administration.
Shut up, Buchanan. DEEPTHROAT RULES. 4 EVA.

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