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13<br />

Bill O’Reilly: <strong>Lying</strong>, Splotchy Bully<br />

Last time I saw Bill O'Reilly in person, he called me an "idiot" and screamed at me to "shut<br />

up!" He also said I was "vicious, with a capital V," which I suppose means that I'm especially<br />

vicious. This all happened on national television, if you can call C-SPAN national television.<br />

We were in Los Angeles at an annual publishing hootenanny called <strong>the</strong> BookExpo<br />

America. We were both <strong>the</strong>re to promote our books. Bill was hawking his latest, Living with<br />

Herpes, while I was promoting (with evident success) <strong>the</strong> book you are enjoying right now.<br />

We were on a panel with <strong>the</strong> wise, witty, and wonderful Molly Ivins, who was <strong>the</strong>re to discuss<br />

her newest, Bushwhacked: Life in George W. Bush's America.<br />

I was concerned <strong>the</strong>re might be fireworks between me and O'Reilly. A preliminary<br />

cover of my book had been blown up and prominently displayed at <strong>the</strong> convention center.<br />

<strong>And</strong> based upon what I know about Bill, it occurred to me that having to walk past a giant<br />

foamcore book cover calling him a liar might light his notoriously short fuse. Also, as you<br />

may have noticed, <strong>the</strong> cover features an unflattering picture of O'Reilly looking splotchy and<br />

ill-tempered. Blown up ten times, he looked ten times splotchier. For <strong>the</strong> record, I had been<br />

hoping to get a better picture, or at least have <strong>the</strong> cover artist remove <strong>the</strong> splotches.<br />

I first saw Bill when he charged into <strong>the</strong> green room and accused, not me, but Lisa<br />

Johnson, my 109-pound publicist, of doctoring <strong>the</strong> cover photo to make him look bad. "This<br />

is what I look like," he said angrily, pointing at his nose. "I've never looked like that! You<br />

responsible for this?" he said, leaning his six-foot-four frame toward her and jabbing his finger<br />

menacingly. "That's a doctored photo. This is what I look like," again with <strong>the</strong> pointing.<br />

Which seemed a little unnecessary, since both Lisa and I recognized him from his many appearances<br />

on television.<br />

I tried to calm him down. "Bill, Lisa had nothing to do with <strong>the</strong> photo."<br />

"This is what I look like."<br />

"I know, I know."<br />

"I've never looked like that."<br />

"Bill, Bill. This is a preliminary cover." I explained that, in fact, I had wanted to have<br />

<strong>the</strong> photo doctored to take out <strong>the</strong> splotches. I'd even wanted <strong>the</strong>m to retouch my photo.

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