Team Party Crash: The Week Opinion Awards

A well-placed fern adds a touch of nature to your giant, panel-dwarfing doric columns.

Busy week so far for Wonkette. Last night saw us at some sort of weird auditorium/ballroom thing attached to the EPA (no one knew what purpose the space served, except for hosting panel discussions in a fancier-than-usual setting) for The Week Opinion Awards (in Partnership with The Aspen Institute). It was a blast, of course, though we admit that we don’t remember the awards bit, or the round-table bit, or the speeches, as we were having way too much fun schmoozing and drinking. We’re sure the winners were very deserving, though. Despite our not winning.

And boy, what a star-studded occasion it was. Froomkin! Arianna Huffington! Sid Blumenthal! Froomkin! Our full (hazily-reconstructed, actually) report, complete with exclusive photos from Liz Gorman, Intrepid Girl Reporter, after the jump.

We ran into Reason editor Nick Gillespie as soon as we stepped out of our cab, which was a good sign: as we’ve mentioned before, getting drunk with Libertarians improves any Washington night out.

Once we got inside and marveled at the fancy baroque high-ceilingedness of it all (and hit the open bar), we proceeded to schmoozing. We met Dan Froomkin(!), who looks a bit like a high school chemistry teacher (but, you know, the one you liked and who’d get you really excited about stoichiometry or something, before you had your love for education sucked out by an underpaid misanthropic calculus teacher or something), and Tom Toles, who talked to us about blogs for while we wanted to talk about cartoons and pissing off the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Toles was appropriately cantankerous, wondering why he’d bothered to show up despite not getting an award. His conclusion (and ours): Free dinner.
“What table you want? 4? I can get you 4. I can get you 4, bro, no problem.”

Our fear that we’d start giggling if introduced prevented us from actually talking to him, but we did consider throwing a cell phone at Tony Blankley, who does not blog. We would’ve blamed it on Walter Isaacson. That guy’s a menace.
Table Report: One of us got Arianna Huffington (superhumanly charming), the other got Patrick Gavin from FishbowlDC/the Examiner (tall) and The Hill’s Jackie Kucinich (almost as cute as her dad). We both got Newshour correspondents (someone’s idea of a joke, no doubt — seat us with our polar opposites).
“Is that… is that… FROOMKIN?

The table chat was the usual Beltway insider stuff: The lack of congressional inquiries into the death of Biggie, Easy-E’s legacy, and Katie Couric’s new eyes. Then Senator Chris Dodd started talking about a federal shield law and everyone got kinda sleepy. It was at this point that we took the first of several cigarette breaks, leading us to miss the portion of the evening where the awards were given away. Whoops. If you want that kinda stuff, go to Fishbowl. Senator Bill Nelson was there, but he left just before we got a chance to ask him if Katherine Harris had him running scared.
Anyway, our notes from the panel discussion (about whether White House correspondents are real journalists) are completely useless (they read: “Kucinich: Hates mashed potatoes, freedom”), but we remember Arianna using the best metaphor ever, which we shall reconstruct from memory: “It’s like your husband is cheating on you with your sister, and you get upset when he brings you dark instead of milk chocolate.” No idea what she was referring to. Poor Michael Massing and John Dickerson sat at either end and were nearly invisible behind the Mike McCurry/Blankley/Huffington juggernaut of punditry. Sydney Blumenthal was called on to ask a question, which, after 15 minutes of talking about something-or-other, he neglected to do.
Oh, she’s on her Tupac conspiracy kick again…

And no one answered the question about whether White House correspondents are journalists. We kept waiting for a show of hands at the end or something.
(Sir) Herald Evans: Someone told us before the panel that Evans is basically Dr. Zaius from Planet of the Apes. This ruined/made wonderful the rest of the night.
“Webster’s Dictionary defines ‘opinion’ as…”

Afterwards, once Sir Evans had finished demanding that his friends be given microphones, most people ran for the door, but we stayed on to drunkenly chat with Sir Evans and Sir Andrew Sullivan (right?) and Dame Arianna (why not!), all of whom said all sorts of fabulous things that we can’t print.
Patrick Gavin’s dark secret: karaoke. We’ll tell you where and when for the right price.

Also unprintable: Original Wonkette and Mr. Original Wonkette giggled and passed notes the whole night, but wouldn’t let us see them because they were “too mean.” Then Mr. Original Wonkette offerred Liz a dollar to ask Senator Dodd if he had any thoughts on the proposed federal shield law.
Sir Herald Evans: Gotta dance.
“And stay away from the Forbidden Zone!”
“Don’t call on me. Don’t call on me. Don’t call on me. Oh man, he can tell I didn’t study.”
Please insert your own “Brokeback” “I did not blog” mash-up joke here.

Update: Crashing Team Party Crash: Original Wonkette Speaks

READ MORE: Media, andrew sullivan, arianna huffington, biggie, bill nelson, chris dodd, froomkin, harold evans, jackie kucinich, john dickerson, liz gorman, mike mccurry, mr. original wonkette, original wonkette, parties, party crash, planet of the apes, sydney blumenthal, team party crash, tom toles, tony blankley, tupac, walter isaacson

RNC’s Holiday Photo Fun

Apparently having a flashback to his days at TIME, Slate’s John Dickerson did some reporting today and discovered the Republican National Committee’s very own war on Christmas. In their new web-only ad attempting to terrify people about the Democrats’ seditious anti-military criticisms of Bush, the RNC illustrated the problem of undermining the troops with a picture of a soldier stoically watching the Dems bad-mouth him and his cause. There’s the usual misleading, out-of-context tilt, but Dickerson also caught a factual error sure to enrage Bill O’Reilly: They airbrushed Christmas. In the original file photo (right), our fighting man isn’t being disillusioned by John Kerry, he’s having the cockles of his heart warmed by Dr. Suess’s timeless tale of holiday spirit, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Shame on you RNC!

The Grinch Who Doctored Photos [Slate]

READ MORE: john dickerson, rnc, slate, time, war on christmas

Funny-for-DC

We regret missing the “Washington’s Funniest Celebrity Contest,” though we can’t say the coverage makes us miss it a lot. The Reliable Source advised many to “keep their day jobs,” while FishbowlDC wondered, “We’re supposed to be laughing with, not at, them, right?” But what were people expecting? It’s the least surprising discovery of bombs since Judith Miller turned in her notes from Iraq.

Our Low Expectations Operative filed a report.

Fashion-wise: “many icky polyester sheaths, complete with pantylines. yikes.”

“The winner, Brian Baird’s impersonation, depended on the same joke (3 times). Putting up a graph of (gas prices/unemployment, etc.) on their side, so that they look like they are going down, instead of up. While funny, not incredibly creative… the MAYOR was the funniest person in the room. by far. who knew? First joke was just up your alley: ‘Okay, you all better put down those wine glasses, because I’ve got police positioned on the street.’”

Also funny: “Linda Sanchez dating a first responder who turned out to be a ‘premature responder.’”

Mayor Willams, funny politican continued:  “I’m not running for re-election, so I am trying to think of other jobs.  I thought about President of American University, but there just aren’t enough perks.”  He was better than Rudy Guliani on Saturday Night Live.  And he knew when to quit.    Impersonators won the night - Brian Baird doing Bush, Adam Schiff doing Jon Stewart.  Alas, the subtle and sophisticated humor of Slate’s John Dickerson was mostly lost on the crowd, though they did like his Dr. Suess as a possible Senate hearing response strategy for poor Harriet Miers when she’s asked about Roe v. Wade:  “I will not answer what you say, I will not answer go away.  I will not answer here or there.  I will not answer anywhere.  I will not answer in a boat, I will not answer in a moat.  I will not answer in a house, I will not answer with a mouse.”   And he joked that the AP story about Karl Rove’s garage was “completely banal. I mean he had a step ladder, some rope, some 1960s Texas National Guard records and who among us doesn’t have a box labeled “votes from Ohio.”   Surprise funnywoman:  Linda Sanchez.  Working the recently divorced, hard to date and be a congresswoman (and a Latina!  So many stereotypes are competing!) territory, she embraced them all in a burst of refreshing candor and dirt:  the problem is, the Republicans who hit on me are all married, and the Democrats who ask me out are all (beat) gay. Said you would be surprised who propositions you in congress like… Katherine Harris. [Funny because it’s true! — ed] She claimed some attention from the Republican side of the aisle because you know:  Republicans are interested in screwing the poor.  Margaret Cho would be proud.   Mark Ploktin was bad.

Clarence Page was not funny, although he made a brave effort.  And dressing up like Elvis for a mid dinner song takes a lot of gumption in this town.  He joked that Bill Bennett was in the room, so “run black babies run”.  And he got (a mild) one off at Ann Coulter: if she was a supreme court nominee, she’d want to shorten the robes.
 
Surprise funnyman #2.  Grover Norquist.  Yes, really.  Was misdirected in a few jokes, but did mine the husband/wife territory (he’s newly married). And also himself – a book that they are working on for fourth graders over at the NRA:  Heather has Two Hunters.
 
Andrew Sullivan’s gay routine did not get many laughs, but did win a prize (3rd runner up).  I think that is fourth in most worlds. 

READ MORE: andrew sullivan, anthony williams, brian baird, contests, john dickerson, karl rove, linda sanchez

Where Will W Go?

Slate’s John Dickerson invites readers to play both Karl and Kreskin, suggesting the location Bush should deliver his Thursday night address and divining where he will deliver it. Well, this is easy:

1. Where should the president give his address: In the space on the form where they ask you to. Barring that, he should give it from a position of regret and compassion, preferably while wearing an unwashed set of clothes that he has worn for a week while wading through toxic muck and “finding” food and water.

2. Where he will give his address from: His high horse.

Enter Slate’s Presidential Speech Contest [Slate]

READ MORE: george w. bush, john dickerson, karl rove, katrina, presidential addresses, slate

A Very Short History of Women’s History

Guess John Dickerson has finally finished that book about his mom:

Maybe if they were naked or something.

NANCY DICKERSON Very RARE 1979 Educational Trading Card [eBay]

READ MORE: feminism, jane pauley, john dickerson, john g. roberts, nancy dickerson

WP Newsroom to Become Less Adorable?

NRO picks up the tidbit everyone told us was double super-secret: The Washington Post’s current Hill reporter, former White House correspondent and unfailingly polite Mike Allen is in talks with TIME magazine to leave the Post for TIME’s more luxurious lodgings over on 12th Street. He gave Eric Pfeiffer what can’t even be called a non-denial denial, more like a non-confirmation confirmation: “Thank you for asking. I love The Washington Post and have not made a decision about any change.”

If he makes the move, it’ll be loss for the Post, though one we hope they blame themselves for. The official spin on Allen’s early 2005 shift off of the WH beat was that it was a “lateral move;” his excellent way with sources, tireless reporting and dogged objectivity would actually get him somewhere on the Hill, whereas the WH was so constipated and suspicious of reporters — especially the Post (Thanks, Dana!) — Allen’s assets weren’t being put to their best use. This always struck us as utter bullshit.

As for what it would mean for TIME: They lost a good reporter and half their WH team when the also very polite John Dickerson, who never wrote anything anyway, went somewhere he’ll have to: Slate (where no one will read it). The remaining half of the team — Matt Cooper — has been, well, compromised. Allen’s borderline-insane work ethic (we have seen him pull out his laptop in the middle of a party) would give the magazine perhaps more input than their shrinking newshole can handle.

Heh-heh. Shrinking newshole.

Buzz hears…Rumours swirling about Mike Allen [Beltway Buzz]

READ MORE: beltway buzz, john dickerson, mike allen, press corps, slate, time magazine, washington post