2001-09-17 - 10:30 a.m.
I think today is a good day to tell my Wolf Blitzer story. Those of you who�ve heard it can feel free to skip this entry. Or keep reading if you want to Relive the Joy.
In 1996, right after moving to San Diego, I got press credentials for the GOP national convention. As an idealistic youth--ok, as a youth--I�d dreamed of being a delegate to a political convention. Years later, as a hard-bitten and cynical Gentleman of the Press, I was mostly expecting to point and laugh a lot and to fear for our nation�s future. The GOP convention was all that and more.
One day, I desperately needed to go to the can. (Ever notice how so many of my stories start out like this?) I went to the nearest men�s room and headed for the one wheelchair-accessible stall only to find it occupado. By someone who--how can I put this delicately?--was performing his excretory functions in a most loud, lengthy, voluminous and odoriforous manner. I thought I was going to die of asphyxiation, but I waited, waited, and waited.
Finally--after what seemed like the average length of a Bill Clinton speech--the occupant emerged, and God strike me down if it wasn�t CNN�s own Wolf Blitzer! I gave him a dirty look, but I don�t think he even saw me sitting there. His expression seemed too ... relieved.
So that�s my Wolf Blitzer story. Since then, even under the gravest of circumstances, I�ve never been able to watch CNN without thinking: Wolf Blitzer uses the gimp stall when he doesn�t have to. And he craps really loudly.
And now, thanks to the power of the Internet, neither will you.
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