Who Will Go Deep For Us Now?

BangingTheBasementPipes
Anti-PlumberVille

As a young teenaged kid in the wilds of not-quite-yet Left Coast Canuckistan, I was obsessed with all things Watergate.

In fact, for a while there it wouldn't have been unreasonable to suggest that Tinfoil was actually my middle name.

In particular, I remember the summer of 1973 very clearly because that was the big one.

The one where I read the now syndicated stuff from the Post's Wildboys almost every day. I also listened constantly, between games of badminton and frisbee football, to Senator Sam's Hearings, featuring the resurrection of John Dean, on a cheap transistor radio propped on a log at the beach at Bamberton near Mill Bay on Vancouver Island. And what was even better was having my gaps in knowledge of who was a Waterhead and who was not filled in by latenight flashlight-in pup-tent-readings of the insane ramblings of a still almost young Doktor Thompson that arrived two weeks (or more) after the fact but somehow greatly improved the next day's listening still to come.

But the weird thing is that my interest in Deep Throat only came later, after the dust had settled, when I read Woodward and Bernstein's book and then saw the movie after a vigorous priming from previous viewings Three Days of the Condor and The Parallax View.

But today I'm not so much interested in who Mark Felt is and why he did it but instead whether there are any more Mark Felt's out there right now who might be ready to step up to the plate when, in my view, things are so much worse than they were 30 odd years ago.

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