A Deep Throated Yawn

Last fall, as the Red Sox were rumbling toward their first World Series championship since 1918, there were those (mostly Yankee fans, if I remember correctly) who were furrowing their brows and shaking their heads and issuing all sorts of dark warnings about being careful what you wish for. Victory, they tut-tutted, won’t be nearly as satisfying as 86 years of the delicious tantric virtues of being a close-but-no-cigar, just-wait-till-next-year member of Red Sox Nation. Well, they were wrong because the Sox won and I’m still glowing.

Now, if they’d been talking instead about whether I wanted to learn the identity of Deep Throat, well, they’d have been dead-on. Because I’m here to tell you that it was way, way better not knowing. Turns out Deep Throat was none other than... that’s right, former FBI deputy director Mark Felt. Huh. Gee. Wow. Talk about your epic buzz kill. Couldn’t it at least have been Al Haig? That way, we could have had some fun reliving the time he grabbed the wheel of the nation’s station wagon and told the country to settle the hell down after the Reagan assassination attempt. Or why couldn’t it have been John Dean? At least that would have given us the opportunity to spend some time revisiting easy-on-the-old-eyes Maureen “Mo” Dean, who I’ll confess was this 10-year-old’s personal reason for sitting glued to the Watergate hearings when he should have been outside enjoying his summer vacation. But former FBI deputy director Mark Felt? No offense, because the man truly did the country a great service and all... but couldn’t it have been someone with better file footage?

By the way, if someone out there knows where D.B. Cooper is or if Paul is really dead, do us all a favor and just keep it to yourself.