This guy is just plain nuts.
Realizing that’s a harsh assessment, I herein claim familial privilege in defending the family name.
After Kavanaugh heard the president was unhappy over Brett’s wimpy performance with Martha MacCallum on FOX, he throttled his runaway train full steam ahead Thursday afternoon, bombastically blowing his cool before a global audience in the millions. His transition from gentle jurist to scorned scholar seemed almost Hulk-like.
I believe Dr. Christine Blasey Ford – a new American hero.
Anyone who watched Ford’s extraordinary testimony earlier that day without experiencing emotional whiplash and empathetic resonance has no soul. She was a perfect witness in every way – congenial, cooperative and crushingly credible.
Thanks to Sen. Jeff Flake and those remarkable ladies trapping him in the elevator. They brought in the FBI for an extra week of investigation, but I need no further proof of Kavanaugh’s craziness.
American comic Red Skelton once famously declared, “I calls ’em the way I sees ’em!” I try to do that, too.
Beyond any reasonable doubt, Brett Kavanaugh is supremely unfit to sit on the highest court in the land.
Poor Rachel Mitchell. She was hauled into the action from Joe Arpaio country in Phoenix to quiz Ford in front of the committee rather than have those 11 male Republican members do the dirty work. Mitchell sat in front of them like their nanny.
At halftime, Steve Schmidt, senior campaign strategist and adviser to the 2008 presidential campaign of Sen. John McCain, tweeted, “Every GOP strategist and Hill staffer wishes they had a button to open the trap door under Rachel Mitchell’s chair. What a total and complete political disaster for Republicans.”
Mitchell still lasted halfway through her remedial role in the subsequent questioning of Kavanaugh. But then Sen Lindsay Graham, hoping to succeed Jeff Sessions as attorney general, jumped into the fray with his mouth blazing, igniting similar shouts of wild indignation from the remaining Republican interrogators – a bunch of old white guys screaming each other into hyperbolic hysteria. The day thus moved from the sublime with Ford to the ridiculous with Kavanaugh and his boys. Astounding.
There’s no question that Judge Kavanaugh is intellectually brilliant, was a super achiever both academically and athletically in his early years, and has enjoyed a stellar career in the following decades. That’s mania for you. The ups frequently have corresponding downs.
There’s also no doubt that the sexually repressive culture dramatically evident in Catholic education of that era could often bring about proportionate, unfortunate expressions of rebellious alcoholic rage. Or at least lasting resentment.
At the start of my senior year at Cathedral Academy in Syracuse, “boys and girls” were separated for a while by an empty row of desks between genders to minimize lurking temptations. Wiser, less austere heads eventually prevailed. Desks were rearranged more democratically. Yet we were still taught that “wanting to” was the same as “doing it” with identical penalties – namely, burning in hell for eternity. And what part of your body burns the hottest? The part you’ve sinned with. Get the picture? It was all I could do not to shove popsicles down my pants.
Our Fourth District congressman, Rep. Tom McClintock, has the Kavanaugh question all figured out. He gave a private speech last week in Placerville and pronounced Ford’s allegations, “crazy talk” and said that her claims don’t “pass the smell test.” I’m wondering what Tom’s been sniffing. McClintock has repeatedly voted against the Violence Against Women Act, dismissing it as a “feel-good measure.”
I’ll feel good without Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court and McClintock in Congress – no popsicles needed.