“There’s a reason I’m called ‘Tricky Dick.’ Haven’t you learned anything, Donald?”
The ghost of Richard Nixon knocked on Donald Trump’s bedroom door the other night.
“Come on in, Dick,” said Trump. “Want some fries?”
Nixon looked grim. “You actually talked to Bob Woodward?”
“Sure did,” Trump said. “On the record? Right here in the White House?”
“Yup.” Trump shrugged and wolfed down the rest his cheeseburger.
“With a tape recorder running?” Nixon was grinding his teeth. “Have you lost your [expletive deleted] mind?”
“My whole staff told me it was a terrible idea,” Trump conceded. “But Bob was actually very polite. He called me ‘Mr. President’ and even complimented my tailor. We chatted, like, 18 times.”
“Eighteen [expletive deleted] times?” Nixon was incredulous. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.
“You’ve heard of Watergate, right?” he said to Trump. “Woodward and Bernstein? ‘All the President’s Men?’ ”
“Great movie, Dick. You can’t do better than Dustin Hoffman and Al Pacino. Incredible.”
“It was Redford, not Pacino,” Nixon muttered. “Point is, he was playing the same [expletive deleted] Woodward that you invited to your office. What the hell were you thinking?”
Nixon’s ghost was starting to get on Trump’s nerves. “Listen, Dick, you wouldn’t give Bob an interview, and look what happened to you!”
“I didn’t give him an interview because I was lying to the American people on a daily basis, just like someone else in this room, and I wasn’t dumb enough to brag about it to a journalist with a tape recorder.”
Trump angrily muted “Hannity” and snapped, “Maybe if you’d talked to Woodward, you’d still be president!”
“Not likely, Donald. I’ve been dead 26 years.”
“Hear me out,” said Trump, popping another Diet Coke. “You could have told Woodward you were ‘playing down’ the seriousness of Watergate because you didn’t want to scare the country, just like I played down how dangerous the virus is.”
Nixon pointed out that more than 191,000 Americans had died of COVIDrelated causes since Trump’s first secret interview with Woodward back in February.
“Nobody died because of my Watergate lies,” he added. “Now, that whole Cambodia bombing thing? Different story.”
Trump got up, went to the mirror and sprayed more bronzer on his face.
“This stuff is fantastic,” he said to Nixon’s ghost. “Too bad they didn’t have it back when you had this job. I’ve seen video of your resignation speech and, no offense, but you looked like a sweaty little vampire.”
And you look like a nuclear pumpkin, thought Nixon.
“I resigned because it was the honorable thing to do,” he said.
“No, Dick, you resigned because you were going to lose the impeachment trial and then probably get indicted. And because what’s-his-face promised you a pardon.”
“President Ford did that in the best interest of the country!”
“Hey, I like that line. I’m gonna use it when I pardon Paul Manafort.” Trump ripped open a bag of Doritos and thrust it at Nixon’s ghost, who said, No thanks.
“You and I really aren’t so different,” Trump went on, munching. “We both hold paranoid grudges. We both keep lists of our enemies. You blamed the media and the Democrats for turning Watergate into a scandal, I blamed the media and the Democrats for the pandemic hoax.”
“But it wasn’t a hoax,. You knew it and you admitted it to Bob [expletive deleted] Woodward while his tape recorder was running. How stupid can you be?”
“Not stupid enough to bug the Oval Office and record all my illegal conversations, so that Congress can later subpoena the tapes, my own party bails on me and then I have to quit in disgrace.” Trump winked cruelly. “Now get out of here, Dick. I’ve got some manic tweeting to do.”
“Just one more question,” Nixon said, rising. “Did Woodward, you know, say anything about me?”
Trump chuckled. “Buy the book and find out. I heard Pacino does the audio version.”
“That’s not true.”
“Well, whoever it is, he does a damn good me.”
The phone rang, and Trump reached for it. He listened for a moment, put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered excitedly, “Guess who wants to interview me now? Carl [expletive deleted] Bernstein!”
Nixon’s ghost smiled darkly. “I think you should do it, Donald,” he said, “at least 18 or 19 times.”
“Absolutely!” Trump beamed. “I mean, what’s the downside?”