I worked all weekend on a final wrap-up that revisited the great running jokes of the past 500 quizzes, saluted the bright and amusing players who devised them, and charmed Ellen Barkin out of Ron Perelman's magnificent mansion and into my, well, you know: I live indoors. But I'm going to tear up those prepared remarks and speak from the heart. (Picture me dramatically ripping something into confetti and tossing it on the floor, then brushing away a tear and looking incredibly sincere, which I can't do because there's not really any paper involved here, and the whole crying thing, well, I'd rather not go into that for reasons best kept between me and my therapist, and no matter how bathetic I become, I do realize I'm not actually giving a speech, and you can't actually see me, so there's no point in my affecting a look of sincerity, although as it happens, I'm wearing one right now. And little else.)
It's been a genuine pleasure to do the quiz. I'll miss it. I'd like to thank Michael Kinsley for the opportunity, the Slate staff for the help, and the quiz participants for making it so much fun.
See you at Novocento on Wednesday evening.
Dammit, I promised myself I wouldn't cry. Or cuss. About crying.
Bush said he wanted to serve as a role model for his daughters, presumably something he could not do if they knew what he actually was like, and so he made "the decision that as a dad I didn't want my daughters doing the kinds of things that I did."
Teachers, clergy, child-development experts, and Richard Nixon agree that lying to kids about one's own behavior is the way to raise 'em up right, or perhaps not.
Fun sports extra that raises more questions than it answers: In the passenger seat the night drunken G.W. was behind the wheel—Australian tennis great John Newcombe.
A Wake and Sing Reminder
Please join us for the News Quiz wrap party, Wednesday, Nov. 8, 6 p.m-9 p.m, upstairs at Novocento, 343 W. Broadway (Broome/Grand), New York City.