Click to order
(Bart:
This is a great book.)
She was a trip.
Susan arrived at 8:55PM with her co-author
Pat Harris, her publicist and his assistant, I believe.
Immediately--a ruckus between my producer
and SMacD over some weirdness and Susan got a little testy,
thinking it might be some kind of right-wing,
talk-radio trap she'd walked into. I went out at break and
gabbed
with all of them, and she and Pat realized
that it wasn't a standard dittohead hellhole and the ice was broken.
Patched things up with her and Eliza the
producer and they were now insta-buds, which is good - Susan is
a Southern belle and Eliza is an LA girl.
Coulda been messy!
ha ha
Which was good that all was cool, because
her mic was dead for the first 6 minutes,
so I re-introduced her, got it revved up
and, man, it was insane.
We talked about Starr being too chicken
to go tete a tete with her and about her shattered faith in the
system
(and about one good thing out of all this,
her formerly Republican dad has seen the error of his ways). Calls came
in,
running about 4 to 1 in her favor, people
calling her a hero, one fool Freeper tried to pin her to the idea that
she'd been
free to tell the truth to Starr in the
first place--which was impossible, because they never wanted the truth
anyway.
I drilled the guy a new one myself--they'll
never get it.
But the peak of her appearence came when
a fellow named Rick called from down South (Laguna, I think) and told her
that
one of his buddies knew Jim MacDougal in
prison. Susan said that Jim's only wish was not to die in a prison cell
and that's
where he died, alone and naked on a concrete
floor, refused his meds, because Ken Starr didn't need him anymore, post-Monica.
It was intense, but she was ecstatic--told
me that it was a pleasure to finally talk to someone that spoke their mind
and she
was shocked that I knew the deal between
the Washington Post and Starr and Steno Sue--she turned to Pat in amazement
that I was hip to that story and it dawned
on me that the things we take for granted, on B-Cop, Smirking Chimp, Atrios,
MWO and other sites barely registers in
the mainstream.
And our last segment was begun the way it
always does, with the Sid Vicious version of "My Way" (From The Great Rock
and Roll Swindle) and me screaming over
it, begging Sid to shut up. Susan looked at me and said, in semi-horror,
asking
"Where am I?" I told her we
were all on acid, but because it was California, citric acid, and not to
worry. That got a
nervous chuckle out of her and Mr. Harris.
But, the show is very rock and roll and so is Ms. MacD--for one segment,
I use theDictators "Who Will Save Rock
and Roll?" and she was bopping to it. She has good taste.
My crew was in heaven and I haven't been
sacked yet (and with feelers out to Howard Dean, John Kerry
and others, who knows how long I'll last?).
She was the real thing, an American hero
that's devoted her life to prisoners rights, a subject that brought her
to tears.
Two million forgotten people, some of them
awful people, but there are over 2,000,000 awful people running free as
we speak.
Look at Texas!
Heeheehee.
Love,
Johnny
Oh this?
Yahoo mentioned some Pallas kitties were born somewhere,
and Mrs Bart wanted to see them, and it'd be stupid to delete
it, right?