By Matt Coker
By R. Scott Moxley
By Charles Lam
By Nick Schou
By Gustavo Arellano
By Gustavo Arellano
By Steve Lowery
By R. Scott Moxley
Photo by Jack GouldA Clockwork Orange—the Weekly's weekly week in review—routinely skewers local muckity mucks. That makes that precious editorial space the closest thing this esteemed publication has got to a historical record of the top newsmakers of the past 1,000 years.
We know what you're thinking: Isn't the Weekly only beginning its fifth year of existence? Hasn't A Clockwork Orange only been in the paper since September 1996? Can that really accurately reflect an entire millennium, which is like a million years or something?
But we'll venture even farther out on the proverbial limb and make the following blanket proclamation, which is based on a quick scan of all the past Clockwork installments: Robert K. Dornan—a.k.a. "B-1 Bob," "B-1 Blob," "B-1 Slob," "B-1 Bent Over," "B-1 Bubblebutt," "B-1 Boobgate," "B-1 Bonkers," "B-1 Bore," "B-1 Boopsie," "B-1 Sick Cookie," "B-1 Buttplug," "Beaten-1 Bob," "B-1 Baggage," "Sideshow Bob," "Imaloserbaby," "Bitter, Defeated, Ex-Congressman," "Poppy"—that Robert K. Dornan is the Man of the Millennium!
What about James Irvine? Richard Nixon? Gwen Stefani? Amateurs! Clearly, no other human has had a more profound influence on Orange County for 1,000 years than Robert K. Dornan. Sure, it's a negative influence. But we also believe Adolph Hitler is the international Man of the Millennium. Talk about negative influence.
And don't accuse us of comparing Dornan to Hitler. Dornan can't play the violin.
Here are some of our Man of the Millennium's most memorable millennial moments:November 1996: Speaking of certifiable politicos, look, Bob Dornan just walked into the OC Weekly office unannounced. At press time, it's still a tossup whether the brash congressman will return for, what, his 48th year on the Hill? Michael Moore of TV Nation and Roger and Me fame was scheduled to swing by the OC registrar of voters office and file a complaint seeking to invalidate ballots cast for Dornan on the basis that those voters "are not sane." "Beaten-1 Bob" is suffering the ultimate humiliation: congressmen armed with measuring tape are already sizing up his plum office space overlooking the Hill. December 1996: "B-1 Bob" took a ride on a FA-18 jet at the El Toro Marine Corps Air Station. Cost to taxpayers: $4,000. The flight was intended to show Dornan the jet's capabilities, information that's no doubt crucial in his final days in office. January 1997: In an effort to keep his lawyers paid, Dornan turned to his ultrarich, ultra-Right friends. The Lincoln Club kicked in $30,000. Lincoln Club prez Dale Dykema explained, "We're looking at this from the standpoint of the fraud issue and not only the standpoint of this particular election. The Lincoln Club's purpose is good government, and we see this as a good government issue." Pardon me, I must barf. BLLUCKKK!!! Anyone have a tissue? March 1997: "B-1 Sicko" is accused of hassling nuns and Marines to sustain his voter-fraud fantasies. I'm telling you, folks, give this guy a hit squad and it'll be El Salvador all over again. July 1997: The Federal Elections Commission in Washington, D.C., informed OC activist Michael Farber it's the law: he can't run a political committee with his opponent's name in it. So Farber changed his anti-Dornan committee's name from "Dump Dornan" to "The Deranged One Has Been Dumped." House Majority Leader Dick "It Hurts When I Pee" Armey passed the sombrero around for B-1 Boopsie: "Our friend, Bob Dornan, needs our help," Armey wrote in a letter to GOP House members. "Bob has a legitimate case that deserves to be thoroughly investigated, but at a high price." How high? $800,000 high. September 1997: Dornan arrived at the Anaheim Marriott, site of the GOP convention, in time to make a grand entrance during former Vice President Dan Quayle's speech to 850 delegates. When party officials caught wind of the thunder stealer, they squirreled Dornan away in a room for 90 minutes. As a result, more than 700 people had left by the time Dornan sashayed in. Incidentally, the faint thumping audible during Dornan's speech originated from 700 people outside the Marriott trying to beat a Dan Quayle speech out of their heads. October 1997: Like a painful rectal itch, new Jimi Hendrix albums, or the escaped nut-house freak in those Carpenter flicks, Bob Dornan simply refuses to go away. October 1999: You loved him as a child; you trusted him as a mother. And now Robert Dornan is being mentioned as a candidate for the congressional seats held by his former GOP aisle mates Dana Rohrabacher and Ron Packard. Clockwork doesn't care who Dornan takes on, so long as he wins. We figure the longer Poppy's around, the longer the Weekly's assured of solvency.