The Huffington Post has been live for two days and I still haven’t met Gwyneth Paltrow.
Arianna Huffington told me that if I participated in this "online conversation with all the smart people," I would be introduced to Gwyneth Paltrow. I would get to hang out with Anthony Cordesman. Maybe even play a little croquet.
Guess what? When I showed up at Anthony Cordesman’s office with my croquet set last night, he neck-punched me.
Neck-punched by Anthony Cordesman?
For this I agreed to blog?
I stopped by the Carnegie Council this morning and asked if Larry David was ready to read my screenplay--AS I HAD BEEN PROMISED.
Guess what Arianna? You were mistaken: Larry David doesn’t work at the Carnegie Council.
So my screenplay remains unread. (It’s called "Heritage Foundation’s Ultimate Energy Policy Adventure": Think "Revenge of the Nerds" meets "a bunch of bullshit underwritten by ExxonMobil.")
An unread screenplay?
For this I agreed to blog?
Quincy Jones, where you at? I got my demo tape right here. Arianna told me I could find you down at the Council on Foreign Relations, remixing Kenneth Maxwell's new single with The Matrix.
Guess what Arianna? The Council on Foreign Relations doesn't even have a recording studio. And you can’t just run up to Henry Kissinger and give him your demo tape.
I found that out this afternoon. The hard way.
Five hours chained up in the Council on Foreign Relations’ secret underground holding cell?
For this I agreed to blog?
In spite of the setbacks, I still believe in this project. In fact, I made dinner reservations for me and Gwyneth Paltrow this Friday.
But Arianna, you better get on the case: I hate canceling dinner reservations.
How pathetic.
Just like Joe Scarborough says:
How pathetic.
P.S. David Frum, shouldn’t you be "ending evil," instead of blogging? Or is Richard Perle hogging the Batmobile this week?
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