Friday, April 07, 2006


Friday's White House press gaggle -- yes, that's what they call it -- found reporters eating Scott McClellan's buttocks over the disclosure that President Bush gave the OK for Scooter Libby to leak classified information to the media.

(For the record, it seems a no-brainer that of course the president can declassify and make public anything he wants to. The problem in this case is the delivery method -- stealth instead of public accountability. Bush didn't want anyone to know he was the leaker of a smear against Joe Wilson. The swaggering "leader" is actually a coward.)

But we digress. Friday's gaggle included this very odd query about the indicted Libby:
QUESTION: Scott, on March the 30th, I believe, last Thursday, Mr. Libby was spotted at the White House Mess. It just seems unusual that he would be coming back to the White House in this situation. Any ideas why he --

Scott McClellan: I don't know anything about that. I don't think so.

QUESTION: You don't think what?

Scott McClellan: I don't think he was here.

QUESTION: What would you do if I --

Scott McClellan: You spotted him?

QUESTION: I have a pretty good source I trust that did.

Scott McClellan: I'll check into it, John, but I don't think that's --

QUESTION: Alan Greenspan was here Thursday, March the 30th.

Scott McClellan: I don't think so, but I'll check. I'll check. I wasn't camped out at the Mess.
McClellan gets points for artful dodging. He doesn't know, he doesn't think so, he wasn't at the Mess. What a mess, and getting deeper with each passing disclosure.


Anonymous said...

It's come out today that the Chimp didn't declassify Plame's status until 10 days after the Novac column appeared.

Anonymous said...

It’s all over now Baby Bush or the song of the Scooter is heard in the land.

These are the (hopefully) the best of times and (potentially) the worst of times

Scooter sang like the sweetest bird I have yet to hear in this difficult spring. I’m sure the midnight oil will be burning brightly in Karl’s office all this weekend as he spins the recent revelations from Fitzgerald’s investigation that Cheney and (dared we even hope) Bush himself may have been finally caught in their own trap. Despite Bush’s “L'Etat c'est moi” defense for his declassification of the relevant material, I believe this one will stick like a tar baby and every attempt these two rogues make to extricate themselves from penalties will only serve to implicate them even deeper.

More importantly, these revelations will finally bring the whole issue to its long postponed crisis. These longsuffering, devout fence sitters and all those who have been going along to get along lo these many years, will now finally have to commit to one side or the other. The pundits, the press, the Jurists, the Democrats, and yes, even the Republicans now will have to take a stand either for democracy and honest, legitimate, government or for fascism. I don’t see how even the dullest member of the great unwashed will fail to perceive this dichotomy. At last we have finally arrived at the fork in the road that leads either to the difficult, perilous path back towards democracy or the far more serious, far more devastatingly path to despotism. When this whole matter plays out to its inevitable, conclusion we will have to either impeach this President and indict the Vice President or admit that we are living in a dictatorship. I believe we made the correct, painful decision in ’74 when a bipartisan effort forced another despot from office. We are no longer the same country we where then however.

I wish I could be optimistic about the outcome, but I am not. I fear for the worst. The only positive product resulting from a decision to scrap this two hundred plus year experiment in self-government will be that at least we will all know once and for all that we are slaves. Such knowledge is the grist for all true revolutions. I’ll see you on the barricades!

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Excerpt from “The Second Coming”
W.B. Yeats

Peace? – Perhaps not in our time,