Spielberg to Clinton: You're hired, now take a memo

HOLLYWOOD--Here I sit, in the rotten core of the great American image generator, biding my time at a smoothie bar known as Frootz and sipping an organic kiwi/ginseng/pine needle/ tiger's milk concoction. Vixens--male and female--glide by with perfect skin and heels as high as their dogs are long. To console myself, I've just purchased a beautiful new Borsalino Folar at the Hollywood Hatter. C'est magnifique!

I'm down here in Sodom and Glamorrah tracing a rumor going 'round that our philanderer in chief, President Clinton, will move to the Left--Coast, that is--after January 20, 2001, when the Constitution spits his two-term backside out of the White House like a watermelon seed at a barbecue. Whispers abound--they've even filtered across the pond to the Economist--that the prez will join good friend Steven Spielberg at his new megastudio, DreamWorks.

It's a bit too early to strike up Hail to the Studio Chief, but think of the possibilities if Clinton reverses Ronald Reagan's movies-to-politics hegira. Think about how Bill might have influenced some of Spielberg's films had he been called on earlier: Paula Jones and the Birthmark of Doom, Raiders of the Lost Golden Arch, Jurassic Pants, and even Blouse Encounters of the Third Kind. I guess there's always the sequels.

Why DreamWorks? Why Hollywood? First of all, DreamWorks donated practically zip to Republicans during the '96 election but somehow managed to find $530,000 for Democrats, according to the Washington Post. Also, the New Yorker recently mentioned that Clinton might move to California to be close to the eminently Stanfordian Chelsea and perhaps protect her from U.C. Berkeley students with a few loose screws.

If he doesn't make it in Tinseltown, Clinton might have a tougher time finding friends up here in la Vallee, where his weak-kneed support for the forces against security fraud legislation earned him no brownie points. Perhaps laying some groundwork for the time when he needs a couch to crash on, the Slickster appointed new PointCast CEO David Dorman last month to the "advisory committee" on (take a breath) High Performance Computing and Communications, Information Technology, and the Next Generation Internet. Almost as plum as the ambassadorship to Luxembourg, I'd say.

Dorman's no Spielberg, but PointCast is a media company now, right? That's what their execs have said, and that's allegedly the reason they brought in Dorman, although I'm not sure how working at SBC Communications counts as media experience.

Boy-oh-boy, with all these big media types around, it must be hard to get a table at the finer eating establishments. Will consulting for Wired Ventures make restaurant life easier? Wired hired hand Roberta Jacobs, quoted in fashion rag Glamour, thinks so: "When I'm taking clients to lunch, my assistant reserves a good table for me and tells the right people who I am. That way I don't have to pull rank to get extra attentive service."

The sharp eyes at the local alt-paper SF Weekly noticed the comment and decided to check for the proof in the pudding. Jacobs's power of propers was about to collide with the harsh reality known as the San Francisco restaurant seating chart.

The Weekly called some trendy city restaurants and tried to schnag a table for dinner based on the strength of the Jacobs/Wired names. After several rounds of "Who?" and "Wired what?" only did the venerable Tosca--a bar that has no food service and didn't recognize either name anyway--give the faux Jacobeans a mercy table.

The d?nouement: A week later, the paper printed a small response from Jacobs: "Please let your assistant inform my assistant where I'll be dining Friday night!" Nice touch, Roberta. You're even funnier than those "Fired" T-shirts. (Mine's size XS--extra Skinny.) Speaking of fired, word has it that the new revenue-driven CNET will replace me with an automated Matt Drudgebot if you don't send me your deepest, darkest tech dirt.