“[I]n Washington, D.C., . . . the President was having a little hand trouble of his own. Which is to say, the President had been caught red-handed, hands redder than a travel poster sunset, pimp red, a red that could enrage bulls and stop locomotives, but not blood red, for blood is sacred and the red that ran off the President’s hands was the red of lies and deals and greed and arrogant megalomania.”

—Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get The Blues, 1977.