i was livid about the squirl chewing my windowsill and i yelled at him and squirted liquid graphite on the wood to see if that would deter the little bastard and then i watched Our Nixon, who was no more no less my nixon than the evil little squirl-fucker trine to gnaw his way into my kitchen and my life, and i thought wow, nixon and his bumfuck spies were like proto-hominids in the spy games. it was like they threw up a bone and it became a spy satellite. now they are all growed up and if evil has turned into state of the art cancer. i loved the scene where nixon mugs to his white house audience introducing the ray conniff singers how he can't describe them except to say they are square, and that's the way he likes it and i'm ready to gag and then sexy dark-haired one pulls out a green anti-war banner and says "stop bombing people, and animals, and vegetation, mr. nixon", and ray tries to grab the cloth and then picks up his baton and the show goes on. ah so satisfying, and soon that war was sort of over and tricky dick was back in his sanctuary san clemente in his great man sorrow and the locals' greater.