Nerdprom gothic
by digby
For me, the White House Correspondence dinner reached its low point in 2003:
The comedy routine drew laughter from the Washington power players and Hollywood celebrities gathered at the annual comedy showcase, which brought together the likes of Donald Rumsfeld, Colin Powell, Condoleeza Rice, Harrison Ford, Christie Brinkley and Osbourne for a night that might have been more appropriately billed as “Ozzypalooza.”
Osbourne, the star of the hit MTV reality series “The Osbournes,” upstaged the rest of the illuminati and basically stole the show. When Bush mentioned Osbourne by name, the aging rock legend climbed up on a chair and threw his arms in the air, drawing wild cheers and prompting Bush to say, “OK, Ozzy … Might have been a mistake.”
Bush jokingly hailed Osbourne for making such recordings as “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath,” “Face in Hell,” and “Bloodbath in Paradise,” saying “Ozzy, Mom loves your stuff.”
Osbourne was once banned from Texas for urinating on the Alamo, so the joke about Cheney peeing was not completely random. Bush showed a series of photos of top administration officials peering through a peephole that looks into the Oval Office, followed by a staged photo in which Cheney was shown from the back with his hands in front of him, suggesting he might be relieving himself on the door.
Only Ozzy breaking into a rousing rendition of “War Pigs” could have salvaged that hideous display.
I couldn’t be happier to see people starting to seriously discuss ending this tradition they’ve turned into a creepy public schmoozefest that validates everyone’s suspicions about the press’s subservience to not just political power but celebrity power, which is even worse. In fact, it’s pathetic.
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