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26<br />
I Attend <strong>the</strong> White House Correspondents Dinner and Annoy<br />
Karl Rove, Richard Perle, Paul Wolfowitz, and <strong>the</strong> Entire Fox News Team<br />
I love <strong>the</strong> White House Correspondents Dinner. I've performed <strong>the</strong>re twice. In 1994, it was<br />
<strong>the</strong> scene of my greatest triumph. (Buy Rush Limbaugh Is a Big Fat Idiot for details.) In<br />
1996, Newt Gingrich almost slugged me. (Buy <strong>the</strong> paperback edition of Rush.)<br />
This year we were at war, so instead of <strong>the</strong> usual comedian, <strong>the</strong> entertainment was<br />
Ray Charles. Judging from this year and from 1999, when Aretha Franklin sang, <strong>the</strong> Correspondents<br />
Association has decided that it's bad form to have a comedian during a war or an<br />
impeachment.<br />
I came as a guest of U.S. News & World Report, and I was very excited. Three thousand<br />
people in tuxes and gowns (except <strong>the</strong> generals and admirals, who were in dress uniform)<br />
were ga<strong>the</strong>red in <strong>the</strong> Washington Hilton ballroom. I thought of renting a four-star general<br />
uniform from a costume house in New York and wearing that, but, again ... we were at<br />
war.<br />
So <strong>the</strong>re are all <strong>the</strong>se senators and cabinet officers and White House officials and Fox<br />
News people. Frankly, I was salivating. The night before, I had done one of my wildly successful<br />
corporate gigs in Reno, Nevada, and I arrived at <strong>the</strong> Hilton just half an hour before<br />
dinner. After showering quickly, I nicked my chin shaving, <strong>the</strong>n put some toilet paper on <strong>the</strong><br />
cut so I wouldn't bleed on my tux shirt as I fiddled with <strong>the</strong> studs and cufflinks. I headed<br />
downstairs to make an appearance at <strong>the</strong> U.S. News & World Report cocktail party, holding a<br />
handkerchief to my chin to make sure I was sufficiently coagulated for <strong>the</strong> evening. On <strong>the</strong><br />
way <strong>the</strong>re, Matt Drudge said hi to me, and I said hi back. I bring this up not because I think<br />
you'll be impressed if I drop his name, but for a reason you'll see in a bit.<br />
By <strong>the</strong> time I got to <strong>the</strong> dinner, my platelets had done <strong>the</strong>ir job, and I was looking<br />
quite dapper. I sat between <strong>the</strong> Irish ambassador, who had a delightful Irish brogue, and Jodie<br />
Allen, a managing editor of U.S. News, who is brilliant and charming and really beautiful.<br />
But as happy as I was between Jodie and Pat (Mike?), I was taking a good look around. At<br />
<strong>the</strong> table in front of us was Commerce Secretary Don Evans, one of <strong>the</strong> President's closest<br />
friends. At <strong>the</strong> table to our right was Richard Perle, <strong>the</strong> neo-con war profiteer who had re-