Letter from Al - Brief Article

National Review, Oct 23, 2000

Dear Rusty, The trick here is not to say anything on Tuesday night that might be considered "exaggerated," whatever that means.

To that end, what I'm doing right now is reaching out to certain folks who have known, and, I hope, respected me throughout the years, to clarify the things that I did, in fact, do, the things that I did not, in fact, do, and more importantly, the things that I may be said to have maybe done, taking into consideration the now-current concept in quantum physics of an infinite matrix of universes embracing an infinite array of possibilities. I guess what I'm really saying here is that I'm going to list all the things that I may take credit for on Tuesday, for some reason. And I'd appreciate it if you'd back me up, if asked.

Okay, then:

1. In the early 1970s, I invented the electric car. You saw the elaborate drawings, the specifications for the rechargeable battery cell, and the sophisticated design elements in a detailed collection of technical blueprints. I entrusted them to you when I left to serve my country in Vietnam, and you foolishly lost them, and/or burned them to keep warm during the oil-price shock of 1973.

2. My sister died of lung cancer acquired during a prolonged visit to Houston, which has the worst air quality in America.

3. You, or someone you know well, is taking the popular anti-depressant Zoloft. You, or someone you know well, also has a listless, unhappy house pet. It turns out that you, or someone you know well, can get Zoloft prescribed for the pet, take it yourself, and save several hundred dollars per year. This is good news for you, or someone you know well, but terrible news for your house pet, which still suffers from feelings of futility and worthlessness.

4. Bill Clinton, in the throes of impeachment, depressed about his legacy, moping around the White House, once turned to me, eyes filled with tears, and asked if I thought he should resign. I was silent for a moment, then I turned to him, and slapped him across the face. "Stop whining," I said, "and get on with the people's business." I told you, or someone you know well, this story the day after it happened, whenever that was.

5. While in high school, I organized the cafeteria workers at St. Alban's into Local 137 of the International Brotherhood of Food Service Workers. I did the same with the room-service waiters at the ordinary, run-of-the-mill Washington, D.C., apartment building where my family lived when not busy on the farm. This was back in the days when most apartment buildings had room service, bellhops, continental breakfast, and nightly turndown service.

6. It was not a hotel. It was an apartment building with amenities.

7. You are either the friend, or you personally know the friend, who experienced HMO negligence and/or an inability to pay for expensive prescription drugs. You are either the friend, or you personally know the friend, who died in my arms, after making me promise that my first official act as president would be to fix the health-care crisis in America. (This might be a tricky one if you're out and about after I've carefully described your death scene. Let's talk about this.)

8. In the 1960s, while studying at Harvard, I interceded during a hate crime. A lone African-American man was being attacked by six-no, wait, make that eight-white thugs with chains and pipes. Wait-let's make that knives and unregistered handguns. I busted a few heads, took a bullet in the fleshy part of my arm, scared the rest of the cowards off, and saved the life of that very grateful, very scared young African-American. You were that African-American. This might be hard to pull off, Rusty, unless you're doing some kind of radio call-in thing. So maybe we should say that you and I interceded together? Hmmmm. That doesn't seem to work, either. It really should be me, alone, facing the eight Klansmen. Did I mention they were Klansmen? Well, I think they were. And come to think of it, you could pass for black on the radio.

9. I described the Internet to you in eerie detail on June 8, 1977. I foretold of e-mail, websites, streaming video, and business-to-business applications. But my crusading work as a journalist and young congressman distracted me from personally realizing my vision.

10. Monica Lewinsky flashed her thong to me once, and I slapped her across the face.

I think I've covered all the bases, Rusty. But please, PLEASE, watch me on Tuesday night! I may do a little mix 'n' match and I want you to be ready!

Thanks, Al