Kavanaugh

I know good old Brett. I never met him, but I recognize him from a mile away. He is the quintessence of the frat boy, one of the guys. Brett’s a poster child for the clean-cut white American, borne to privilege, borne to the assumption that he can do whatever he wants whenever he wants to do it. Why shouldn’t he? He has money, brains, class, culture, and power. You know why he was such a petulant, tantrum-throwing brat at the hearing? No one says no to Brett. Not a lawyer. Not a coach. Not a terrified young woman. Not Senator Klobuchar — especially not a woman! How dare anyone call him on his behavior? He can do anything he wants! He was coached well by Trump and associates.

Brett is an insecure guy, a manchild who hides behind his race and his religion. He was bred for success. And succeed he has. Brett has convinced enough Americans and their elected officials that he deserves a seat on the Supreme Court. And, by God, he’s going to get it. The status quo stills breathes, still destroys anyone who might disagree or offer another interpretation of the truth.

I know Kavanaugh, the one who mocked the guys who weren’t athletes, who didn’t go to prep schools, who weren’t white and Christian. He was the one who rated the girls, who drank the beer, who puked and screamed. He was the one we always knew would be a hotshot at the country club, making coin, acting like the self-righteous snob that he is.

Shame on the people who would look at him — with awe, envy, admiration — and see a Supreme Court judge. See him for what he is: a man capable of lying about his life, under oath, without hesitation or compunction. But lying — bold-faced lying — is now the sine qua non of our president; why not his latest nominee?

Brett — you’ve won again. Have a beer.

Trump — what have you done to my country?

 

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