The best way to think of the White House Correspondents' Dinner is as a cycle of insecurity. Washington's political nerds secretly want to be respected by politicians and politicians secretly want to be celebrities and celebrities secretly yearn to be regarded as political nerds. For one night a year, they all get to grasp drunkenly at the objects of their desire. It's win-win-win.
It's also usually painful and probably subtly corrupting of our entire politic-journalistic process. But last night was pretty pain-free and I avoided most pols (thought not Rahm Emanuel's ice-cold stare-down). The profound pleasure was in seeing Donald Trump so publicly humiliated by both Seth Myers and the president. I got to sit next to Aaron Schock, the abs-laden cutie-pie, for the dinner. (Thanks, Tina!) And I got to shake hands with John Hamm, gaze at Bradley Cooper across the room, smooch with Arianna, gossip with Lois Romano, chat with Paul Rudd, listen to Leon Wieseltier's jokes (unchanged since 1993! but still funny), hang with Bill Hader, be regaled hilariously by Mike White's performance art, and – praise be to Allah – come within a few inches of Zach Galifianakis' beard. Good times. Pic of me and Aaron here. Full VF slide-show of pics here. Yep, we closed the party around 4 am.
Alas, I missed Sarah Palin but caught a glimpse of her fleeting departure. What a figure. She must be at least 8 months along by now.
(Photo: Justin Bishop for Vanity Fair.)