I do have a point - so please bear with me (my maternal grandmother was a blonde). I'm a child of the seventies and the evening news during the early part of the decade was consumed with Richard Nixon and the whole Watergate debacle. There were so many players and so many plot twists that it was difficult for my teenage mind to keep track of them all. Sure, I knew the main cast (Nixon, Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Liddy) but the supporting cast of thousands (or so it seemed) was a little harder to keep track of. One thing that puzzled me for many years was exactly why Nixon thought it was a good idea to break into the office of Alan Ginsberg's psychiatrist. I mean, what could the ramblings of a beatnik poet to his shrink have to do with Nixon and CREEP - I've always loved that acronym for the Committee to Re-Elect the President. It applies to more incumbents than just Nixon, doesn't it? I also couldn't understand why a man who lived in San Francisco would be seeing a psychiatrist in Washington, DC - that was a little extreme, but hey, maybe he was really concerned about anonymity. Anyhow, last week the decades-long mystery was finally solved. I was reading an article about Daniel Ellsberg, author of the Pentagon Papers, and realized that it was the office of his psychiatrist that the White House Plumbers broke into, not poet Alan Ginsberg. It is indeed good to laugh at oneself, even after thirty-odd years. And my first thought was: Ellsberg, Ginsberg - it's all the same to me.