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PSST! SOME INSIDE INFO FROM MY CONFIDENTIAL SOURCE
Now that the old
geezer with the glazed eyes and stupid grin tottering around behind his
walker has told us he is the infamous Deep Throat who helped bring down
the Nixon White House, I have a confession to make. I, too, have a
confidential source who shares a lot of important stuff with me and
nobody else. My source has chosen to confide in me because he does not
feel comfortable talking to Woodward and Bernstein. He thinks Woodward
looks too much like has-been actor Robert Redford and that Bernstein has
the personality of a jar of pickled pig’s feet.
Of course, I am not
at liberty to reveal my confidential source’s name until he dies or
fixes my garage door opener — whichever comes first. To protect his
identity, I refer to him as Deep Doo, which is what he got me into when
he convinced me there was no way Roy Barnes could possibly lose
re-election as governor, given that Barnes’ crack staff was spending the
equivalent of the gross national product of Finland on television
advertising. (What he forgot to tell me was that nobody paid any
attention to the ads.)
Despite that rather
serious hiccup, Deep Doo and I have continued to stay in touch. For one
thing, nobody else will talk to him because he always wants to meet in a
dumpster, which turns off a lot of newspaper types. Most reporters
would rather meet at a fancy restaurant and have somebody pick up the
check. That’s the only way most reporters can get inside a fancy
restaurant, by having somebody else pick up the check.
Despite coming home
smelling like old lettuce and rotten fish, I still meet with Deep Doo in
the dumpster, if for no other reason than when I go to cocktail parties
and the talk gets around to politics, I wait for just the right moment
and say in a condescending tone, “Well, that’s not what my confidential
source says.” You can hear a pin drop, until some wiseacre reminds
everybody in the room that my confidential source said that there was no
way Roy Barnes could possibly lose his re-election as governor and that
I smell like old lettuce and rotten fish. At that point I announce in a
loud voice that I must leave, because I have received a message on my
pager that I have an urgent call from UGA president Michael Adams,
seeking my sage advice. That manages to confuse everybody since I don’t
have a pager and Adams never calls me about anything.
Recently, Deep Doo
and I met in our favorite dumpster. He filled me in on the latest
political scuttlebutt as I munched a piece of old lettuce. He says Gov.
Sonny Perdue is a shoo-in for re-election, because he hasn’t done enough
in his first term to make anybody mad at him, except to neuter a dog.
That upset a lot of dogs, but they don’t vote.
Deep Doo says that
Perdue’s Democratic opposition will be either Lt. Gov. Mark Taylor —
if he can break away from the awesome responsibilities of his office to
campaign — or Cathy Cox, who is either (a) secretary of state or (b)
state school superintendent (Deep Doo can’t remember which). He tried to
explain to me the logic of Taylor’s political operatives referring to
Cox as a “liberal” at the time their boss was attending a pro-abortion
rally. That kind of thing confuses me. That is why I need confidential
sources.
Deep Doo thinks the
GOP will maintain its majority in both houses of the Legislature, but
voters won’t know for sure because Republicans plan to pass legislation
in the next session making everything a secret in Georgia, including who
won the election.
There is a lot more
neat stuff I could tell you about my conversations with Deep Doo, but it
will have to wait for another time. The rotten fish is making me queasy.
Besides, I just got beeped on my pager. It is UGA president Michael
Adams calling me for some sage advice. The guy just won’t leave me
alone.
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