- Carter Page.
- Paul Manafort.
- Bernie Sanders.
- Colonel Sanders.
- Route 610 around Houston.
- Matt Taibbi.
- Caspar the Friendly Ghost.
- Caspar Weinberger the Slightly-Less Friendly Ghost.
- Grilled cheese sandwiches.
- The concept of public transportation.
- Prime numbers.
- Harriet Tubman.
- Richard Nixon.
Who is that?
“You know damn well who it is.”
You look upset, Mr. President.
“What is that shit you just said? Who doubts Nixon’s patriotism?”
Woman named Louise Mensch.
“Mensch. Mensch, huh?’
Okay, I know what you’re thinking and stop it.
“It’s just that I know a psychiatrist with that name.”
I don’t know whether she’s Jewish. Leave it alone. She’s British.
“Christ, just as bad. The British are actually cheap. The Jews have this reputation for stinginess, but I find it’s not deserved. many of the other stereotypes about them are true, but not that they’re cheap. The Brits? Never saw a dinner check they couldn’t avoid.”
“I’ll tell you this, son. This woman, this girl, whatever her name is: she’s a symptom. For a person to make such accusations publicly and yet not be locked in the booby hatch? That’s society’s problem.”
Everyone’s getting a little tense.
“My God. Nixon, a Communist? Nixon jails Communists, bombs them, shoots them. Ran two over the last time I was in Miami.”
You ran over Communists?
“Not me, personally. Bebe Rebozo. This is, uh, one of the things that I admire about the man. He may actually despise Communism more than I do.”
That’s a lot.
“You should reach out to this woman. Warn her off this course.”
She’d only accuse me of working for the Russians.
“Paranoia is a drug. At times, it can aid performance. Give one a boost. Too much, though, and you’re out in the deep water.”
Well said, Mr. President.
“God bless America.”