Bob Woodward, Naked

By this time in the proceedings I don't give a hoot about President Trump. I also never gave a hoot about Bob Woodward, and would certainly not add to his riches by buying FEAR: Trump in the White House, his new tell-all book that takes advantage of the salivating public clamoring for new dirt on Public Enemy #1.

Now he's an old coot, but I met Woodward back in the early 1970s when he was at the height of his power and considered to be somewhat of a stud. (Remember, he was played by Robert Redford in the movie about Watergate.) He was naked at the time.

He was dating the woman who lived in the apartment right next door to mine in the Georgetown neighborhood of DC. It was two in the morning and they were blasting music and making a ton of noise. Because he had to get up early for work the next day, David, my boyfriend at the time, rapped on the wall a few times and shouted, "Hey, keep it down in there! Some people are trying to sleep!"

The noise continued unabated. Finally David lost it and went into the hall and pounded on their apartment door. Woodward answered, in the altogether, and yelled, "Do you know who I am?" This was during the media frenzy of the Watergate scandal and his daily reporting in the Washington Post, so we were supposed to be in awe of the great Bob Woodward. David responded with, "I don't care if you're the Holy Father himself, shut the fuck up!"

I went out in the hallway to see if I could help, just in time to see Woodward take a boxer's stance and put up his dukes, and hear David say, "I don't fight naked people. Go put some clothes on." Then we both returned to my apartment, laughing hysterically over Woodward's teeny-weeny peeny.