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I've gone to all the trouble of digging up an 11 year old article from The National Review that mentions Nancy Reagan's skit and reminds us of how lousy Clinton was at the self-deprecating bit. Please reward me by actually reading it.

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It's funny till someone gets hurt - anecdotal look at Bill Clinton's lack of a sense of humor - Column
National Review, March 7, 1994 by Andrew Ferguson
MARCH comes to Washington, bringing with it our annual spring fling of parties--deafening, crowd-choked affairs, held in hotel ballrooms the size of football fields. They are usually sponsored by large organizations as tributes to themselves. And what tributes! The food is cold; the cocktails are lukewarm. The after-dinner speeches stretch to Homeric lengths, lasting long after the water glasses have been drained and the table wine has disappeared. A woman with a medium-sized bladder could easily spend half the evening waiting in line for the powder room, and her husband could spend the other half looking for her coat; and on the ride home both would discover that neither had missed anything of interest. No true Washingtonian would pass up such a party for all the world.

My own experience with these occasions is comprehensive. I have covered them as a reporter, attended them as a guest, and fidgeted backstage while important personages delivered remarks I had ghostwritten for pay. What I mean is, I know from these big Washington parties. And so I don't feel shy in offering advice about them to the President of the United States.

Advice is needed; the President has had trouble in their regard before. Several of the parties are thrown by collections of media folk--the Gridiron Club, White House Correspondents' Association, and others. Members get to dress like grown-ups, drink for free, and hand out awards to one another. But the highlight comes when the President offers a few remarks, consisting mostly of self-deprecating jokes and at least one about Sam Donaldson's big mouth, and concluding with what sitcom writers call the MOS, or "moment of s---," in this case a sentimental peroration about the importance of the First Amendment.

It sounds simple, but this President has yet to catch on. He is clearly uncomfortable with self-deprecation-- with humor of any kind, in fact. Last year, his jokes at the Gridiron were considered "mean-spirited." A followup appearance at the White House Correspondents dinner caused a minor scandal when he accused Bob Dole of porkbarreling and Rush Limbaugh of racism. But these were mere symptoms of a larger pathology, which was the President's failure to comprehend his role in the press-dinner ceremony.

At press dinners, self-deprecation on the President's part isn't a shtick; it's the whole point. A press dinner is a sacramental occasion. The city's high priests invite the President and other luminaries--Cabinet secretaries, prominent legislators--to parade before them and ridicule themselves, confirming the caricatures the press has created in its daily work.

The clearest example, as Tom Bethell noted in these pages several years ago, was Nancy Reagan's now legendary appearance at the Gridiron, in which the First Lady dressed as a charwoman and sang a parody called "Second-Hand Clothes." The lyrics satirized her image, created by her audience, as an airhead Marie Antoinette.

Her groveling proved a sensational success. Her husband also understood: his jokes were routinely about long afternoon naps and an itchy trigger finger. The press still hated him, but they credited him with knowing how Washington worked. "He was a dunce," a press don once said, '"but at least he could laugh at himself."

THERE is no reason such accolades should be denied our current President. I have therefore worked up some remarks, completo with stage directions, that he can use when the next press dinner rolls around in a few weeks.

Thank you for that kind introduction, Strobe. Boy, was that a great dinner] Maybe I overdid it. I haven't eaten so much since 4:30 ! Actually all these stories about my huge appetite-- [Pauses, looks to dinner companion on right, points to dessert.] Strobe, you gonna finish that? [Slurps ball of sherbet into his mouth, swallows it whole.] Can't let food go to waste--there are kids starving in Somalia!

No, but seriously. Hillary thinks I've got a weight problem. The other evening she brought a friend up to see the family quarters. Her friend said, "What a beautiful sofa!" Hillary said, "That's not a sofa, that's the President."

Hey, I'm not saying I'm overweight, but when I sit around the White House, I sit around the White House.

But I gotta tell you, the White House is like a fishbowl. Secret Service around all the time .... But I've finally reached an agreement with those guys. The next time some girl runs up and tries to kiss me while I'm jogging, they can arrest her, but I get to wrestle her to the ground.

Hey, Hillary's great, isn't she? I feel like I can talk to her about anything. Right after the inauguration, I remember she was kind of thinking out loud. "Bill," she said, "do you think there will ever be a woman in the White House?" I said, "Sure--the first weekend you leave town."

Thank you so much. If I could just shift gears a moment, I think we all know why we're really here tonight. There's a reason the First Amendment comes first in our Bill of Rights . . .

But I'll let Gergen write the MOS. For some of us, that's the best joke of all.

COPYRIGHT 1994 National Review, Inc