This first novel isn't recommended for anyone, but it's especially off limits for those who watch NBC's local news around New York City: they might never again be able to trust innocent-looking Chuck Scarborough, knowing his to be the mind behind such a fetid mess of sex, psycho-suspense, and inane playing-around with political history. According to Scarborough, Nixon's anti-press paranoia (and his phlebitis) was in fact the result of being shot in the leg with a paranoia-drug pellet during the '72 campaign--the totally implausible plot of a TV-network Chairman and his ex-CIA crony. (P.S. They also masterminded Woodward & Bernstein.) The actual shooter of said silly pellet? TV reporter Ben Stryker, who is demoted from the White House beat to Manhattan in 1972 after his on-the-air sparring with Nixon (hello, Dan Rather) gets out of hand. Ben is bitter. Ben is tortured by maudlin flashbacks to deprived childhood (""I want my daddy. I'm so lonely. I'm so terribly lonely. . .""). Ben wants revenge on Nixon, so he's ripe for farfetched manipulation by the Chairman. In addition, so as to facilitate frequent bedroom action, Ben is also a ""media stud. . . a newsman version of Robert Redford."" Add in two or three rape-murders (don't ask why) and some perverse sex for the CIA-man, and. . . well, let's just say it's a good thing Scarborough has another line of employment besides writing.