NIXON: So what do you make of the new agent?
HALDEMAN: He seems professional.
NIXON: I’m not so sure. Maybe he knows his stuff, but I think I detect an odor.
HALDEMAN: Well, now that you mention it…
NIXON: Jasmine, right? Am I right?
HALDEMAN: Yes, it’s jasmine. It’s the strangest thing.
NIXON: To tell you the truth, I never understood the appeal of baseball.
HALDEMAN: I know exactly what you mean.
NIXON: There’s not much going on, you know? One pitch, then another pitch, then another one. Then finally, boom, the ball goes flying, and five seconds later all the action’s over.
HALDEMAN: Really tests your patience.
NIXON: National pastime, my eye.
HALDEMAN: My eye and my left foot.
NIXON: These bikini briefs they delivered sort of ride up.
HALDEMAN: Yes, they certainly do.
NIXON: [pause] How do you know?
HALDEMAN: It’s an educated guess, sir. You look a bit pained.
NIXON: Pained? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?
HALDEMAN: I have a very good eye.
NIXON: In any event, they ride up.
HALDEMAN: You might consider going commando.
NIXON: You going to Spiro’s thing next Friday?
HALDEMAN: No, it conflicts with the Brazilian prime minister’s visit.
NIXON: Oh, crap. That’s right.
HALDEMAN: As much as I like Spiro…
NIXON: Yeah, and I heard he’s bringing in hookers.
HALDEMAN: Hookers?
NIXON: Lookers, I said. There will be some real lookers.
HALDEMAN: I like lookers as much as the next guy, if you know what I mean.
NIXON: I don’t think I do.
HALDEMAN: No.