If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is how often I change my underwear, and what my lousy marriage was like, and how George H. W. Bush was too occupied to notice he’d wandered into the interview area this one time when I was supposed to only be interviewing Barbara Bush, and all that Edward Klein kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, I change my underwear as often as the need arises, and in the second place GHWB and Barbara would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told you the real reason why I was at the White House that night in 1992.
Ed Klein, though. He’s a piece of work. He’s a goddamn phony, and everyone knows he’s a goddamn phony, and everyone acts like stupid bastards and buys his books as if there’s some sort of real honest goodness about them. Don’t even get me started about Ed Klein. Let me tell you, I hate Ed Klein if you want to know the truth. He’s bad in bed. Seriously. He thought the missionary position was an exotic way to have at it. It killed me.
I’ll tell you something: I’m drunk. I’ve had a few days off from work, so I’ve just been going around the city, drinking whiskey from a bottle in a paper bag like a hobo, and I’ve been looking at the statues in Central Park, posing in front of them, wondering what my statue will look like when I finally get one.
I keep reading about my poor ratings and wondering what happened. In the mornings, on “Today,” I got ratings. Now at night, I get nothing. Where do the viewers in the morning go at night? They certainly don’t go to Central Park, or else they’d see me putting on my own newscast right here on Sheep Meadow. Not even the drugged up homeless people watch me here, the bastards. And they won’t share a needle with me, like I’ve got the goddamn plague or something. I’m not being stand-offish, even. I’m sitting here with my booze and my pretend desk, reciting the day’s news, and they look at me as if I’m nuts when all I’m doing is trying to create some goddamn buzz. While buzzed.
You know what? When the outside of my underwear is clean, I don’t see why I shouldn’t just turn it around and wear it inside out after a few days. It’s not like I have time to do my own laundry. According to Ed Klein, I’m too busy whoring around and running CBS News into the ground to do laundry. And you know what else? Yeah, my producer was shouting questions in my ear when I got the first President Bush to talk to me that time, but I changed the phrasing of the questions just enough to make them my own questions.
I’ve learned something during my year at CBS, and I am sure most of my audience has noticed: Never ask anybody anything. If you do, you’ll just delay the time til you can get home and get drunk.