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White House Correspondents' Dinner: Advice for the Uninvited.
By now, those in Washington who care about whether or not they've been invited to the White House Correspondents' Dinner know whether or not they've been invited. Those who don't care are better off not knowing anything more about the dinner than it is the one of the few occasions when members of D.C.'s journalism-government-industrial complex admit that there are people in the world more powerful than they are: celebrities.
Sure, they're B-through-Z-list stars (Washington's Oscars? Please. More like D.C.'s Blockbuster Video Awards), but without them the WHCD is the world's largest gathering of individuals voted "Most Likely to Have a Job Requiring You to Wear Credentials Around Your Neck." It's now five days and counting 'til the bash -- just enough time for those who don't have invites to try something desperate to get one. We've heard about a few popular tactics, provided here as a Wonkette public service:
•Call media entity with table to fill, pretend you got an invite last year. Most likely to work if a) You have occasion to see your name in print at least weekly, b) You were actually invited last year.
•Steal your boss's ticket. Call media entity with table to fill, RSVP for boss. . . adding, "but she's not sure if she can make it, in which case, she's giving the ticket to me." Most likely to work if a) Your boss was really invited, b) Your boss really isn't going.
•Crash. You can get in almost anywhere in this town if you're in full-on evening wear and aren't carrying a weapon. Most likely to work if a) You own evening wear, b) You can distract the guards with your tits.
NOTE: Velvet-rope gawking at the WHCD is on par with memorizing the James Brady Briefing Room seating chart on the geek-o-meter. Put it on your resume if you plan on applying for a Wonkette intern position in the future.