I don’t normally excerpt the G-File in the Corner, mostly because of the profanity, but also the laziness and some other things. But I figured this was different:
Almost exactly two years ago to the day I wrote in this “news”letter:
Oh, and I have a request. So far the G-File seems to be catching on just fine. Lots of good feedback, increasing subscriptions, etc. No one has sent me a gift bag full of scotch and cash yet, but I can only assume that’s coming. But a couple people — literally a couple — have written me to complain bitterly that they don’t like the G-File and that they want me to remove them from the list.
Here’s my heartfelt response: I truly don’t give a rat’s ass. I ain’t getting paid anything extra to write this thing. The reason I agreed to revive the G-File is that I missed writing stuff the way I want to without worrying about appealing to a wide audience or the sweaty-toothed madman pounding on my brain. This thing is for old school — and newly recruited — flying monkeys only. Think of me like Dr. Johnny Fever in WKRP in Cincinnati — I finally have a chance to say “booger” on the air again.
Besides, this is a newsletter (admittedly with less actual news than there’s “real fruit juice” in Hawaiian Punch). Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Regret signing up for it? That sucks for you. Don’t like my attitude? Send an e-mail to TheSuits@nationalreview.com.
Okay, now that they’ve left the room: Booger, booger, booger.
I bring all of this up because last night Dr. Charles Krauthammer said “booger” on national television, and not just once. He was very pleased and excited to have done it, though it was obviously unplanned. I was there on the Special Report set agonizing if I should take it up a notch with a WKRP reference. I had to explain to him during the commercial break who Dr. Fever was. That is not a stop on the highway of my career I ever thought I’d be making. I opted not to. And, as it turned out, during the commercial break, I had to explain to him who Dr. Fever was. That is not a stop on the highway of my career I ever thought I’d be making.
Now the thing is, if Charles Krauthammer — Charles frick’n Krauthammer — can say “booger” on the air what am I free to do in this semi-secretive missive sent to pop-culture-besotted rightwingers who need to appear like they are working at their desks during lunchtime? What brave new vistas have been opened up for me?
The mind reels.