Tim Russell: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets. But one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions... Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC UP AND UNDER)

Garrison Keillor: It was one of those perfect summer days when the sky is blue and the world is green and you wonder why didn't I become a poet instead of getting into this cheesy business where you sneak around following people, which was what I was doing. I was collecting dirt on candidates for public office, hanging around outside their fundraisers, watching for a criminal to show up so I could get a picture.

Fred Newman (SOUTHERN): I am not personally familiar with Mr. Lothman and so had no idea he had been arrested for parking in a handicapped spot. My record in behalf of handicapped is clear-- (FADE) I have voted for increased funding--

GK: It was only June but campaigns get aggressive early and campaign managers know you've got to get the opposition on the defensive.

TR: I had no idea that the coffee served at my fundraiser came from a coffee plantation in Brazil owned by the descendents of war criminals. Had I known, I would have cancelled. I have consistently supported human rights (FADING) here at home and abroad and I would like to reiterate...

GK: I followed a lady Democrat for a few hours. Caught her driving her Volvo, taking her recycling in, and in the car with her was her teenage son (HIP HOP LOUD) and I got a little video of just her, listening to the music, and shaking her head in time to the song, which included the lyric--

TR (SING TO HIP-HOP): I hate you, I hate you, I wish you were dead
You're stupid, you're stupid, you're a big stupidhead.

GK: And the next day she had to issue a retraction, saying that she had always been opposed to hate songs and she was only doing isometric neck exercises and not enjoying the music in any way. (STING) I'm not proud of this, but a man's gotta pay the rent. So I was in Salt Lake City, hired by the Utah Democratic party to collect dirt on Republicans.

TR (HIGH): We Utah Democrats are an embattled minority, Mr. Noir. We hold our meetings in tents out on the desert and we put out a weekly paper called the Independent Progressive Weekly.

GK: The I.P. Weekly.

TR (HIGH): That is correct. We communicate with each other by way of notes written in lemon juice which we hide under rocks at public playgrounds.

GK: Spare me the violin music, pal. Just fork over the $500 a day plus expenses and I'll get you what you're looking for. (BRIDGE) And so I found myself in Provo, in the backyard of a snazzy suburban home, beside a swimming pool, at a $1000 a head fundraiser for Congressman Lou Pole, a co-sponsor of the flag desecration amendment and the Broadcast Decency Control Act which provides a half-million dollar fine for the use of the word (BEEP). I was posing as a photographer, snapping pictures of Congressman Pole and his fan club, and of course the photographs I was hoping to get were another matter--
TR (JOWLY): Come in here and have a photo with me, Natalie and Rick-- good to see you again. (CLICK OF SHUTTER) Thanks so much for your support. Appreciate it. -- Come in here, Dave and Babette. So glad you could come. Thanks a million. (CLICK OF SHUTTER) -- Sam! Vicky! Come here and let me get a picture of the three of us. Thanks for coming. (CLICK OF SHUTTER)

GK: Hey, Congressman. Can I get you a drink?

TR: I don't drink.

GK: How about a cigar?

TR: Don't smoke.

GK: Care to read a salacious book?

TR: No thank you.

GK: How about some Percodan?--And then I spotted a blonde in a slinky black dress, lowcut, and she had a feral look in her eye -- hey, babes--

Sue Scott: Yeah--?

GK: I know you. I've seen your mug on cd's, haven't I--

SS: You're a Democrat, aren't you. You rotten dirty liberal--

GK: Why, it's Ann Coulter. I didn't recognize you.

SS: You're about to get a big big surprise, Mr. Democrat. (RUBBER STRETCHING)

GK: And she removed her face right there in front of me. (RUBBER PEELING) And underneath she had a big pointy nose and was covered with warts. (SS WITCHY LAUGH) My gosh, I had no idea. I mean, I suspected, but -- your hair isn't blonde-- it's like old dried moss --

SS (WITCHY): I know who you are and I know what you're doing and I am going to throw some magic potion into this hot tub (BUBBLING) and this powder (BUBBLING AND POOF) and this magic stone (BLOOP, BUBBLING) and now I am going to turn you into one of us. (WITCHY LAUGHTER)

GK: I don't think so, Ann.

SS (WITCHY): I only wish the President were here to see it -- (BOINGGGGG) (POOF)

GK: And she disappeared in a cloud of smoke and there in her place...
TR (BUSH): Hi there. How y'all doing?

GK: Mr. President--

TR (BUSH): Where am I?

GK: You're in Utah, sir.

TR (BUSH): Fine. Glad to be here. What am I doing here?

GK: You're in a backyard, at a fundraiser.

TR (BUSH): Are these evil-doers?

GK: I don't know. They're Republicans, though.
TR (BUSH): This isn't the Second Coming? The fulfillment of prophecies? The gathering of Armageddon?

GK: It's just Utah, Mr. President.

TR (BUSH): I was at the ranch, taking a nap and suddenly I'm in Utah?-- I haven't fallen off the wagon, have I?

GK: No, sir.

TR (BUSH): If this is another one of Cheney's practical jokes-- That guy is such a kidder. Last week he put me on a plane and told me I was going to see my dad, and instead he sent me to Iraq. Bummer.

GK: Let me just take a picture of you and a couple of friends here, Mr. President--

TR (BUSH): I got to get back to Washington and do my job. The country needs me. Why are you smiling?

GK: Hey-- do the honors -- light the barbecue, Mr. President -- and I handed him a rolled up newspaper for kindling and as he held it toward the flame-- a big paper flag unfolded -- (TR BUSH: What the heck?) (BRIDGE) --and that was the picture. Unfortunately, I lost my balance -- whoa-- and the camera dropped in the hot tub -- (SPLASH) but I still remember it. I remember it very clearly.


TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets but one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions...Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC OUT)