I was awakened by a knock at my door at 4:12 AM two weeks ago. It was the FBI. National Security Act charges were pending against me unless I revealed my source; I declined and am now a fugitive from federal prosecution. If this report is published, I can only hope that the mainstream media -- who rebuffed my earlier attempts to get this story told -- will take heed and dig into this to confirm what you are about to read.

In my post-doctoral political science thesis for a Midwestern university, I chose to delve into the Watergate Tapes to find out what no one has been able to uncover: namely, what was on those eighteen-and-a-half-minutes of erased tape that Nixon handed over to the investigators.

My thinking was that with the uncovering of Mark Felt as Deep Throat and with the passing of Nixon, there was no need to keep this information from the public. I originally provided this information to The Washington Post, U.S. News and World Report and the Weekly World News; all have declined publishing this unless I reveal my source for the information -- an informant I will call "Shallowass." I chose not to for the same reason Woodward and Bernstein chose not to expose Deep Throat: journalistic integrity. Why the media is so petrified to see this reported is beyond my understanding, but I believe it is part of the "new America" which has emerged post-9/11.

You are probably aware that Nixon was involved in the surreptitious bugging of the National Democratic Committee offices in the Watergate Hotel. You are also likely to know he was obsessive about recording the goings-on inside the Oval Office. When the truth was revealed that tapings were going on that could show Nixon engaged in black bag type work and possibly ordering, in secret agent parlance, "heavy work" to be done, the lid was off and the tapes eventually found their way to the investigators, after much obfuscating and dismissals within the Justice Department. It looked like Nixon was prepared to sacrifice hoards of true Americans to protect his nasty secrets. When the tapes were eventually handed over, an eighteen-and-a-half-minute gap was missing in one. The disappearance of this was chocked up as a mistake made by Nixon's secretary, Rose Mary Woods. When the tapes were analyzed by professionals, it was obvious that they had been erased several times -- and on purpose.

The question in many minds has been: what was on those tapes? What did Nixon fear more than anything else to have come out into the public? Was he plotting killings? The dismissal of trusted aides? Blackmail? Was he doing all this to remain the most powerful man in the world? The truth is not as disturbing in some respects -- but, in other respects, much more disturbing.

Shallowass was able to provide me with a copy of those missing minutes. I spent weeks transcribing them, and you will be able to judge for yourself whether this is something I should be jailed for trying to reveal. Here are the complete eighteen-and-a-half minutes of missing conversation.

TAPE/TRANSCRIPT BEGINS:

(Sound of oval office door closing.) Pres.: "Bork, glad you could make it, grab a scotch or something, you know where it is, need to take care of some -- heh heh, business -- if you know what I mean... make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, just push that button over there... not the one marked "TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE." The smaller one... Pat's gonna drop by so just tell her I'm on maneuvers... she'll know what you mean... (quieter) oh, this is going to make the bombing of Cambodia look like child's play. (Door to Oval office washroom closes.)

Robert Bork: "Yes sir, Mr. President."

(Noise of ice cubes hitting cut crystal and a door closing.)

(Muffled) Pres.: "So Bork, did you deal with those problems we talked about earlier? You know the ones I mean -- the COXsucker, Dickardson and Fuckleshaus."

Bork: "Yes Mr. President, flushed just like you asked."

Pres.: "Good work son, you'll go far. Remind me to tell Pat next time we have the Thai ambassador over, none of that goddamn chink food. My ass is redder than Krushev banging his shoe."

Bork: "Yes sir, Mr. President."

(Sound of door opening.) Mrs. Nixon: "No need to get up, Bob, I just need a second with Dick. Where is he?"

Pres.: "I'm in here, Mother; we've got the Chinese on the run now."

Mrs. Nixon to Robert Bork: "He's always a card in there. If people could just see his real sense of humor, this nasty business would all just pass like bad potato salad at a picnic."

Pres.: (Loudly) "What was that, Mother?"

Mrs. Nixon: "Never mind, Dick."

(Sound of footsteps and a door opening and closing.)

Mrs. Nixon: "Oh honey, use the freshener or light a match... and don't strain, you know what that does for your hemorrhoids. Julie and David will be over later, and the Shah of Iran is waiting to see you next."

Pres.: "The Shah, forgot about him. We should send him home -- he's got nothing to worry about. Pump oil, collect cash, oppress the masses. (Loud fart is heard.) Tell me, Mother, why did we have to have that special food when that Thai ambassador was over? You know how it tears me up inside. (Loud passing of gas.) Heh, heh, just hit them with some agent orange there, Mother, now we can commence bombing."

Mrs. Nixon: "Oh, Dick, you know we just need to be cordial, and ... Oh, Dick, this is bad!"

Pres.: "I can just see all the leaves dropping off those trees Mother. Preparing to open bomb bay doors!"

Mrs. Nixon: "I think I'll just wait out there, Dick."

Pres.: "Oh, Mother, be a sport. (Rapid sputtering of farts, a few tiny splashes are heard.) Did you hear that, Mother? Clearing the bush with napalm, heh heh, now when we get them out of Vietnam we can start dealing with them properly. You know, Mother, we'll sell them 400 million Hula hoops and God only knows how many cars -- (Grunting) -- and TVs. I was talking with a TV guy from Philco, he said the market for TVs over there is unbelievable. This is going to be the second Rape of Nanking -- (Loud splash, with quick firing farts) -- cluster bomb, Mother -- (Quiet sound of gas escaping) -- I think this is the nerve agent, dear, better hit the fan."

Mrs. Nixon: "I talked with Nancy Reagan; she says we are in her and Ron's prayers."

Pres.: "Ronnie's a good kid, not too swift, but he knows how to work the field. (Loud splash and massive sputtering, with a high-pitched farting noise.) Bombs away, Mother, the Ho Chi Minh trail is no more! You know, when I shook that bastard Mao's hand back in ‘72 I swore he pinched one off on me. Smelled of rice and cabbage. I think a photographer from UPI even got a pic of him wincing. And he calls ME a foreign devil. Couldn't help myself with the chuckle... heh heh, he'd done his research."

Pres.: "So, Mother, what was it you wanted?"

Mrs. Nixon: "I've forgotten, Dick. Looks like the nerve agent did its job."

Pres.: "Thelma, my girl, you always know the right thing to say. Will you give me a hand here mopping up the wounded? (Sound of paper unrolling.) Remember to get the ones hiding behind the remaining trees. While you're back, there better make a casualty report. How's the bomber?"

Mrs. Nixon: "Well, the bomb bay doors look a little stressed. Rivets look like they are popping out, too, but I'll give them a good going-over with some oil, and I'm sure we'll be ready for our next mission."

Pres.: "Do I need to call a medic? Or can we just get janitorial in here to do a bomb damage assessment on the old American Standard?"

Mrs. Nixon: "I think janitorial can do a proper BDA, and while they're at it they can look into Teflon coating it. Looks like our beach house's exterior after Hurricane Camille."

Pres.: "Mother, I don't know what I'd do without you. I know I don't say it enough, but you are the best."

Mrs. Nixon: "Oh Dick, don't get all maudlin. Owwwwwwwwwwww, I have a cramp in my finger -- could you give it a pull to straighten it out?"

Pres.: "OK, here goes, dear." (Sound of Nixon pulling his wife's finger.)

(MASSIVE FART SOUND)

Pres.: "Thirty-four years of marriage and you still make me smile every day, Thelma Catherine. (Sound of couple kissing.) Goodness me... did you have broccoli or sulfur pâté at lunch?"

Mrs. Nixon: "Just remember, Dick, you are not a crook."

Pres.: (In a deep resonant voice) "I am not a DOOK... heh heh... that works for me, too, Mother."

TAPE/TRANSCRIPT ENDS