Watergate
[wah-der-gayt] verb
Informal—North American
- To expose or shed light on an injustice.
“Hey, did you hear Arianna hasn’t been maintaining their front lawn?”
“Wow, wait ’til the Homeowners Association hears about this! You should watergate them!”
“Really, you’re sure?”
“Of course! A person like that deserves to get watergate-d for sure.”
Ever since the day I saw the thrilling film All the President’s Men (1976), starring the sexiest leading man alive (a.k.a. the rugged Robert Redford) and that other guy, I knew I needed to watergate someone. Frankly, it’s the only reason I joined this sham of a school newspaper: to attain the wide-reaching influence I needed to watergate someone properly.
For those who aren’t familiar, the term “to watergate” originates from a large political scandal centered around then-President Richard “Not a Crook” Nixon (and his connections), who hired burglars to break into and wiretap the DNC headquarters in the Watergate hotel. Thanks to Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein’s relentless investigative reporting on the Watergate break-in and their FBI informant Deepthroat’s knowledge on the case, Tricky Dick resigned, and 48 people involved in the conspiracy were either charged or convicted. This is a very simplified explanation of the Watergate scandal, so if you’re interested in learning more, I recommend watching All the President’s Men for yourself, or just taking five minutes to Google the case. It’s worth it.
Woodward and Bernstein managed to watergate the president of the United States of America. So in my quest to watergate someone, I will settle for nothing less. I’ve been trying for almost two years now, but unfortunately, it’s been difficult, mainly because I have zero political contacts or associations. Every politician I tried to reach out to was suspiciously “not available to comment” when I called their office, felt “threatened and harassed” when I found and called their personal mobiles, and filed a “restraining order” when I showed up at their weekend homes in the Hamptons. I also tried to find a “Deepthroat” of my own for information, but uncomfortable internet results led me to promptly abandon my search.
Besides, everyone already knows politicians are corrupt liars that say and do anything for a few more votes in Pennsylvania. Exposing any politician, even the president, for unsavory behavior or unsportsmanlike conduct is simply not interesting enough to make for a good watergate-ing. To effectively watergate the president today, I can’t just watergate them for anything. It needs to be something big and bad.
After hours of meticulously scouring the internet, I found my “something big and bad”: a potential plot by President Trump to unconstitutionally run for a third term. After scrolling for a few more hours, my suspicions were confirmed. I was ecstatic (purely for the watergate-ing material), until I learned that Trump had already confessed his intentions to run for a third term in an NBC interview. Worse, it seemed everybody already knew about this, and none of them (outside of a few angry echo chambers on Reddit) seemed to be outraged. By following through on my plans to watergate Trump, I would be exposing nothing.
Whatever, I told myself. I’m not bitter, I thought bitterly. I’ll just find something else to watergate the president with.
And for weeks, I looked. With time and heavy, hard-hitting investigative journalism (I may have waterboarded a man), I discovered scandal after scandal. But each time I thought I finally had something watergate worthy, I scrolled farther down a Wikipedia page to discover: All of this had been made public already by Trump. Whether through a tweet or a Fox appearance, Trump had already watergate-d himself and faced zero repercussions. And each time, the public has been split between breakdown-turned-apathy to Trump’s shenanigans, or praising him like he single-handedly brokered the deal to release Coyote vs. ACME in theaters. Plus, the Supreme Court gave him immunity, so legally he’s in the clear. Therefore, Trump has become completely un-watergate-able.
I was crushed. My watergate-ing dreams were over before they could ever begin, and I had joined a high school extracurricular for nothing. Embarrassed, I began to start my life anew. I changed my name, my appearance, and my entire identity, fully prepared to live out the rest of my days wandering the streets of New York City in shame. But on day 12, I saw something. It wasn’t something big (on the contrary, it was quite small), but you can bet it was something bad.
On the corner of 94th and Amsterdam, with the trash can RIGHT THERE, I watched as a pathetic excuse of a man finished eating a Left Twix, and instead of throwing the wrapper away like a normal person, he released the wrapper from his hand and let it fall to the floor. Even in my depressed state, my instincts took over.
Without stopping to think, I yelled out in a thunderous voice, “LITTERING IS WRONG!” Then I pointed at this deplorable creature, mustered up all the disgust and contempt I had, and said “SHAME. SHAME. SHAME.” The shameful, sorry fool, properly shamed, picked up the trash and threw it out.
That’s when I had my epiphany: Just because the president’s untouchable doesn’t mean the rest of us are! Sure, it lacks most of the fame and glory, but watergate-ing your average joe can be just as fulfilling as watergate-ing the president. All watergate-ing comes down to is speaking out against injustice around you. Whether it be big or small, you still have the power to make a positive difference in the world. Me using my power to watergate he-who-shall-not-be-named-but-I’m-clarifying-he’s-the-littering-guy-so-you-know-who-I’m-talking-about is proof of that.
I plan to continue to perform my civic duty of watergate-ing wrongdoers, and I advise you to do the same. Get out there, and use your ability to watergate for good. Speak out for what is right. Watergate your neighbor.