We don’t mean to demean the poor man — he is celebrating “two years off meds,” a recent carpal tunnel surgery, and was apparently so traumatized by his night with Craig that hearing his voice again on television nearly made him vomit. We’re not sure we buy that Phillips suddenly “remembered,” after twenty years, the name he saw on a flower arrangement gift card in the hallway.  But we love stories like this, because damn it, they confirm the American Dream: that any young gay George Mason grad student can trick with the homosexual hoi polloi of D.C. and live to tell all and grow a handlebar mustache.

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EXCLUSIVE: “I Had Sex With Larry Craig!” (Wonkette)