Snoops

I stayed up way too late last night watching "All The President's Men." I love the movie but viewing it now is slightly depressing. It reminds me of how much I loved writing, back before my mind grew soft and numb and lazy. Now I'm lucky if I manage to string two or three coherent sentences together. I'm still an armchair fan of investigative reporting, though, and I love nothing more than seeing a big, juicy scandal brought into the light.

One of my favorite things about the movie is all the little details that are no longer relevant in today's world: The typewriters clacking away in the newsroom, the rotary-dial phones, the men all dressed up for work in suits and ties, the smoking in the office and the sorting through piles of papers for information, rather than firing up the computer and searching on Google. And remember the good ol' days when Deep Throat's identity was a huge mystery? Then it turned out to be . . . ummmm . . . that old guy nobody had ever heard of . . . yeah . . . . How anticlimactic.

Whoever cast that film did Bob Woodward a huge favor. It's got to be a boost to the ego when Robert Redford is cast to play you in the movie of your life.