MoDo slept through another deadline, apparently watching television.
Maureen Dowd: From McBeal to McDreamyAs the administration has gotten more hypermasculine and martial, prime time is getting more feminine and seductive.
I hope the N.S.A. isn't tapping my phone at The Times, or tracing my calls, or whatever it calls its maniacal military-industrial civil liberties transgressions.
I'm not worried that it'll overhear meaty — or fishy — exchanges with sources at the Bush White House. I don't have any sources at the Bush White House. If I'm talking container problems, it's ice cream, not ports. If I mention Scooter, I'm merely making plans for a Saturday Vespa picnic.
Alas, I fret that Gen. Michael Hayden and Crazy Dick Cheney will not hear anything to make all their illegal snooping and Caine Mutiny-style hunting for leakers worthwhile.
Ummm, Ms. Dowd, I'm sure your phone calls were monitored, as were all journalists that the NSA could find.
Since I don't really watch television, I have no idea what Dowd goes on about, sorry. Look elsewhere
Tags: Dowd, /television
