American Tabloid

by James Ellroy

America was never innocent. We popped our cherry on the boat over and looked back with no regrets. You can’t ascribe our fall from grace to any single event or set of circumstances. You can’t lose what you lacked at conception.

The real Trinity of Camelot was Look Good, Kick Ass, Get Laid. Jack Kennedy was the mythological front man for a particularly juicy slice of our history. He called a slick line and wore a world-class haircut. He was Bill Clinton minus pervasive media scrutiny and a few rolls of flab.

It’s time to demythologize an era and build a new myth from the gutter to the stars. It’s time to embrace bad men and the price they paid to secretly define their time. Here’s to them.

He asks forgiveness for his hubris. He tells God that he has gained his selfhood at great cost to other people. He tells God that he loves danger now, and it thrills him much more than it frightens him.

Miami was Crime Heaven. Blessington was the Pearly Gates To.

Jack or Dick – one very tough call. The smart bet: Don’t smear seasoned Red-baiter Nixon. Not so smart, but sexy: Smear him and put Jack in the White House. Vote Boyd. Vote the Beast. Vote Fidel Castro’s beard on a stick.

You hate the mass seduction that Joe Kennedy financed. Your foster fathers bought you one cheap toy per Christmas. Joe bought his sons the world with cancerous money. Prayer taught you to hate falsehood. Prayer gave you insight. Prayer was like a choke hold on mendacity.

Three shots a night taught him this: You’re down, but you’re capable of anything.

Five months stone-cold sober taught him this: You’re capable of anything.

I take a few tastes now and then. It’s just to help me keep things straight.

Littell said, “I want it.” Hoover said, “Of course you do. You’ve been hungry all your life, and you’ve finally reconciled your desires with your conscience.”

Hoover expected him to beg. Please reinstate Helen Agee in law school. Please let my leftist friend out of prison. He’d never beg.

“Believe what you like, you chaste little piece of dogshit. And tell your brother that nobody ever loved him more and got back less.”

Boyd said he felt awe more than fear. Pete said, I know what you mean. He didn’t say, I love this woman. If I die, I came this far and lost her for nothing.

Mr. Hoover knew him – as no one else ever had or ever would. He felt an ugly wave of love for the man.

“Your name seems familiar, Mr. Littell. Have we met before?” I WAS YOUR PHANTOM. I ACHED TO BE PART OF YOUR VISION. “No, Mr. Kennedy. We haven’t.”