I can tell you the following — I have never, ever, ever, never, ever, ever, ever heard anything about this. And I spent last week in Washington DC, worked in the LAT bureau, went to parties with LAT muckety-mucks, and gossiped with dozens of people who cover presidential politics; none of whom ever so much as mentioned anything about it. Rosenbaum’s single, anonymous source is most certainly wrong, at least about the “everyone knows” part. He also most certainly is wrong that the same “everyone” apparently “doesn’t know what to do with it” — seasoned political journalists are not helpless bystanders in the face of juicy rumors, they are specifically trained to go out and investigate them, and report when relevant.
As for Rosenbaum’s agonizing over “reporting” such a thing, I don’t have much respect for it. Either report or don’t; save us the handwringing about stooping to “Web 2.0″ whateverthehell.
You can quote me on all of that.
The Republican Gay Agenda
as per Jeff Gannon/Jeff Guckert, Ted Haggard, Mark Foley, Larry Craig, Bob Allen, Glenn Murphy Jr., Richard Curtis, etc.
8:00 a.m. Wake up. Wonder where you are.
8:01 a.m. Realize you are laying on 100% Egyptian cotton sheets of at least ‘300-count,’ so don’t panic; you’re not slumming.
8:02 a.m. Realize you are actually in your own bed in Dupont Circle (for a change). Wake stranger next to you and tell him you are late for work, so you won’t be able to cook breakfast for him. Mutter ‘sorry’ as you help him look for his far-flung underwear. You realize that you tore his boxers off him last night, so you ‘loan’ him a pair of tighty-white briefs, but not the new 2Xist ones because you never intend to see him again.
8:05 a.m. Tell the stranger, whose name eludes you, ‘It was fun. I’ll give you a call,’ as you usher him out the door, avoiding his egregious morning-breath.
8:06 a.m. Crumple and dispose of the piece of paper with his telephone number on it when you get to the kitchen.
8:07 a.m. Make a high-protein breakfast shake while watching CNN. Wonder if the stories you’ve heard about Anderson Cooper are true. Decide they must be.
8:30 a.m. Black or grey suit? Decide to go with black, the only shirt that is clean and the ubiquitous red-striped rep tie.
8:45 a.m. Climb into BMW, trying not to look too much like Barbie driving one of her accessories, as you pull out of your underground parking. Chanel or Armani sunglasses? Go with Armani. Save the Chanel for Rehobeth this weekend.
9:35 a.m. Stroll into The Russell Senate Office Building.
9:36 a.m. Close door to office and call best friend and laugh about the guy who spent the night at your condo. Point out something annoying about best friend’s boyfriend but quickly add ‘It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks, just as long as you love him.’
10:15 a.m. Leave office, telling your secretary you are ‘meeting with some of your boss’s constituents.’ Pretend not to notice her insubordinate roll of the eyes (or the cloying ‘poem’ she has tacked to her cubicle wall).
10:30 a.m. Hair appointment for highlights and trim. Purchase Aveda anti-humectant pomade.
11:30 a.m. Run into personal trainer at gym. Pester him about getting you ‘Human Growth Hormones.’ Spend 30-minutes talking to friends on your cell phone. Cardio for 30-minutes; lift weights for 20.
12:50 p.m. Tan. Schedule back-waxing in time for Saturday party where you know you will end up shirtless.
1:05 p.m. Pay trainer for anabolic steroids and schedule a workout. Shower, dry and dress while taking ten minutes to knot your red-striped rep tie while you check-out your best friend’s boyfriend undress with the calculation of someone used to wearing a ‘g-string thong’ and having dollars stuffed in his crotch.
1:40 p.m. Meet someone for whom you only know his waist, chest and penis size from Manhunt for lunch at the ‘hot, new restaurant.’ Because the maître d’ recognizes you from the The Crew Club, you are whisked past the Christian heterosexual couples who have been waiting patiently for a table since 1:00 p.m.
2:30 p.m. ‘Dessert at your place.’ Find out, once again, people lie on Manhunt.
3:33 p.m. Make your way to Capitol Hill. Make sure the senator for whom you are an aide votes ‘lock-step’ against your personal interests.
5:00 p.m. Take a disco-nap to prevent facial wrinkles from being so ‘terribly witty.’
6:00 p.m. Open a fabulous new bottle of Pinot Grigio.
6:47 P.M. Bake Ketamine for the weekend. Test recipe. Call ‘Juan’ to score some ‘X’ and ‘White Lady’ (really, just for friends) tomorrow before heading to Delaware for the weekend.
7:00 P.M. Go to Abercrombie & Fitch and announce in a loud voice, ‘Over! So way over!’
7:40 P.M. Stop looking at the A&F photographic displays and the ‘hottie’ retail-boys and go to ‘cool store’ to shop for a new bathing suit (“Does this make me look fat?”) for the weekend in Rehoboth.
8:30 p.m. Light dinner with ‘catty’ homosexual friends at a restaurant you will be ‘over’ by the time it gets its first review in the ‘Washington Blade.’
10:30 p.m. Cocktails at JR’s, trying to avoid alcoholic queens who can’t navigate a crowd with a Stoli in a cheap plastic cup. Get plastered. Invite one of the alcoholic queens home with you.
12:00 a.m. ‘Nightcap at your place.’ Find out that people lie in bars, too.”
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