Here’s my new goal: I want to write a tell-all book and be widely celebrated for how well I keep secrets.

That’s a trick I’d really love to a master, like sawing the last thin remnants of a reputation in half and having it appear whole.

Yes, of course, I’m talking about Screaming Mimi, the JFK intern who decided to wait until everybody was dead (guess daughters don’t count, huh, Mimi?) and write a book with information nobody can prove but that fascinates us all. It doesn’t say much for her, and, I suppose, it says even less about us.

Here’s an excerpt from The Daily Mail, one of the places to which she sold the rights.

Okay, okay, it says less about me—I’ve been watching the whole thing with open-mouthed horror and fascination, but not as open-mouthed as Mimi was when she was in D.C., apparently.

What’s getting to me is that otherwise sensible people are…

Read More