By John Aloysius Farrell
Assorted fans, family members and and friends have suggested that our (okay, my, as Schlesinger wants it known he had nothing to do with it) post from the Gridiron Dinner, showing me tuxed, clapping and grinning like a chimp on the old Ed Sullivan show, was wayyy too self-satisfied for a site named after Robert Emmet.
We agree. It was supposed to be a parody, not a self-congratulatory ode, like noting how I got up and down from a deep greenside bunker on the 18th at Hampshire Greens on Thursday to make par and claim two skins.
But I digress.
Here, before the NSA vanishes the clip and hauls me in handcuffs before a FISA court, is Bush actually singing at the dinner, and not just me beaming in ego glow.
Geez. Lighten up people.
