I just got off my flight to Bonn. It's actually just a vacation, but I'll just keep telling Nixon that it's more to keep him happy. The flight was absolutely horrible! Next time, I will just charter a jet. I was seated next to a man who insisted on being called Dr. Phil. He must be some kind of psychiatrist. I asked him why not Dr. McGraw? And he just looked at me with an intense stare, like I was crazy or something. I don't know if this man really is a physician, but every time I tried to catch a catnap on the flight he would start asking me all kinds of questions:
"Do you feel good about your weight?" he said.
"No, buddy, but I'm going to wiretap your ass and send you to a secret prison in Eastern Europe if you don't shut up!" Jiminy Cricket! It's like he hasn't been paying attention to the news. I only need to make a phone call to get it done. Those morons in the Bush Administration will do anything I say. "Have you ever heard of extraordinary rendition?"
He responded, "would that make you feel better?"
I don't like QUESTIONS! They make me start to think about having to testify in front of Congress or in some Spanish court. I'm going to talk to Hoover about this guy when I get back to the States. This Dr. McGraw must be a spy!
