Horrigan: If presidents have one, I gotta get a guy, too

The first thing I'm going to do when I get rich, after I set up secret bank accounts in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands and start a super PAC to fight socialistic tax rates on rich people, is get myself a guy.

No, wait. I'll hire my guy first. Then he can take care of the paperwork. I will need a guy who is totally trustworthy, unlike the pope's former guy. More on that later.

I'm insanely jealous of guys who have guys. I hate it when they say, "Have your guy call my guy and set something up." It's embarrassing to admit you don't have a guy, so I generally reply, "Fine." Then I make the call myself, disguising my voice with a British accent (guys with British accents are the coolest kind of guys) pretending that I'm my own guy.

Guys take care of life's humdrum responsibilities. Guys make restaurant reservations and have your car serviced. Guys answer phone calls you don't want to take. Guys manage the boss's Twitter and Facebook accounts. Guys bring you lattes. I don't like lattes, but I will once I'm rich. Plus I'll dress better because my guy will pick out my clothes.

When George W. Bush was president, he was so busy that his guy Blake Gottesman took care of programming his iPod with the president's favorite tunes, including the works of the Ol' Possum, George Jones.

I, too, am a big George Jones fan, so my guy is definitely going to program my iPod - not because I'm so busy, but because unlike the average 8-year-old, I've never learned how.

Presidents, of course, have lots of guys. They also have lots of secretaries. Here we're not talking cabinet secretaries, but, as they like to be called now, "administrative assistants" or "executive assistants" or "personal assistants." I like to watch the credits at the end of movies because they often list the personal assistants to various actors, directors and producers. Some actors have multiple personal assistants. Tom Cruise even has a chief of staff. This is like being guy-in-chief.

Some guys actually are women, and some women have guys. You could call them "gals," but some women take umbrage when you say, "Call my gal" or worse, "Call my girl." Female umbrage is something I take pains to avoid, so my guy is going to be a guy.

Military officers often have guys. The Brits used to call them "batmen," not to be confused with the superhero of the same name. It is reported that during World War II, Gen. Dwight Eisenhower's valet, Sgt. John Moaney, used to hold the general's underwear for him when he got dressed.

Sgt. Moaney followed Gen. Eisenhower to the White House, where he became the presidential "body man." Body men are guys who stay close to the boss's body, making sure his personal needs -- clean shirts, sleep, Peanut M&Ms - are taken care of. This is the kind of guy I need.

The aforementioned iPod wizard Blake Gottesman was President Bush's body man. President Barack Obama referred to his former body man and basketball buddy, Reggie Love, as his "iReggie" because he kept "my books, my newspapers, my music all in one place." Garrett Jackson, Mitt Romney's body man, is said to be particularly efficient. He's also a licensed pilot whose presence reassures Mr. Romney, who is a nervous flyer.

So am I. My guy definitely is going be a licensed pilot.

One thing my guy is definitely not going to do is steal my gold nugget, my 100,000-euro check and my 16th-century copy of "The Aeneid." Sadly, this is what a Vatican judge this month charged Paolo Gabriele with doing. Gabriele is variously described as a former "butler" or "personal assistant" to Pope Benedict XVI. Think of him as the pope's former guy.

Gabriele also is charged with swiping 4,000 documents from the pope's apartment and then leaking them to Italian newspapers and television stations. The documents alleged corruption within the Vatican related to the Institute for Works of Religion, better known as the Vatican Bank.

Benedict, like Pope John Paul II before him, has been trying to bring the bank to heel without further antagonizing the right-wing businessmen and churchmen who run it. Italian authorities long have suspected it of money laundering.

Gabriele, whose duties used to include serving the pope's meals, helping him dress and opening the door of the popemobile, admits trying to bring the scandal out into the open. His whistle-blower claims would be more credible had he not swiped the gold nugget, the rare translation of "The Aeneid" and the 100,000-euro check.

If he's convicted, the pope could pardon Gabriele, but he's blown a pretty good gig. Top guys can make $100,000 a year or more. My guy won't make that much, but he won't have to hold my underwear.

Writer Kevin Horrigan is a columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. His email address is khorrigan@post-dispatch.com.