Um, I think I was there

So I don’t want to go off on this whole Deep Throat thing, but after my last post I came across the actual Vanity Fair article that broke the story yesterday. I’ll be honest I didn’t finish reading the article. I only got about 1/2 way through the first page. Here are my highlights.

On a sunny California morning in August 1999, Joan Felt, a busy college Spanish professor and single mother, was completing chores before leaving for class. She stopped when she heard an unexpected knock at the front door. Upon answering it, she was met by a courteous, 50-ish man, who introduced himself as a journalist from The Washington Post. He asked if he could see her father, W. Mark Felt, who lived with her in her suburban Santa Rosa home. The man said his name was Bob Woodward. Woodward’s name did not register with Joan, and she assumed he was no different from a number of other reporters, who had called that week. … He looked about my age. I thought, Gee, [he's] attractive. Pleasant too. Too bad this guy isn’t single.”

Wow, stop, hang on a second. When Nixon resigned I was like 5 and my family was in no way involved (as far as I know) and still I know who Bob Woodward is. Now I’m no Jepordy champion but this was a pretty big deal for its time so I guess I filled it away under the “things I should probably be aware of” file in my brain. What is completely CRAZY to me is that the only thing Deep Throat’s daughter, who lived through Watergate and has a very direct connection to it (Deep Throat or no Deep Throat), knows about Woodward is that he’s hot.

It’s things like this that drive me to drink (more).