it is the running track at Olympus.

As we journey through life, we should keep an iron grip, to the very end, on the capacity for silliness. It preserves the soul from dessication.

When Good Drugs Happen to Bad People
Karl Rove, Pothead

By FRED GARDNER
Among the 78,000 pages of Nixon Administration documents recently released by the National Archives was a memo from young Karl Rove to Anne Armstrong, counselor to the President. Rove aspired to head the College Republicans. His memo proposes, among other things, that college Republican clubs show "nonpolitical films for fundraising (e.g. John Wayne flicks, 'Reefer Madness')..." The New York Times asked Rove for a comment and then reported: "The 56-year-old Mr. Rove pleaded forgetfulness. 'God, this is 1973,' he said. 'You work the math. I don't remember it all.'"

What math? The heavy subtraction? 1973 was 34 years ago. Who but potheads thought Reefer Madness was worth watching, let alone showing? Instead of pleading memory loss Rove could have denied to the Times that he, personally, had been into pot. His response reveals an awareness of the essential lightness of the subject. He probably remembers quite well sitting in the old Biograph Theater on M Street in Georgetown, laughing superciliously with the other pot-smoking young Republicans, feeling insightful, maybe not so unattractive, getting the munchies, infatuated with the crowd in power, wondering if he could get close to George Bush's inadequate son and somehow become his advisor...

I think the writer was confusing us with the Key Theatre. We didn't let Republicans in the Biograph.

I told Bush; don't play chess with the freakin' Russians.