Hey Maureen Dowd,
You can’t possibly remember us having lunch together a long, long time ago when we were both at Time. No big deal. I’m dealing with these issues at Hunter College, so …
… I want to “rip off” a few of your savage passages in your April 14, 2018 column, “We Need an Exorcist”
I luv the cadence. I luv the rhythm. I’m pretty certain that I shouldn’t be accused of plagiarism when I substitute names and details to replace some of yours for my, “I Need an Exorcist.” I will let you know when I blog my “rip off.” For the record, the savage passages are:
When you’ve got a demonic child in Washington splattering dark stinking bile, croaking gibberish, spewing vulgar personal attacks, lying to sow confusion, whining about the unfairness of the attempts of righteous men to compel the diabolical behavior and head-spinning outbursts to stop, who do you call?
The demon-buster himself, of course, William Friedkin, the director of “The Exorcist.”
Before Donald Trump became president, the most frightening thing that happened in the capital was “The Exorcist,” which brags on its DVD cover that it’s “the scariest film of all time.”
