Hidden
Figures
James
Howard Kunstler
29
June, 2018
The
fabulous Coen Brothers of Hollywood couldn’t come up with a wackier
Deep State than the one depicted on Cable News this week. Thursday’s
House Judiciary Committee hearing had Congressman Jim Jordan (R-
Ohio) in the role of “The Dude” from The Big Lebowski doing
battle with Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein as “Osborne Cox”
in Burn After Reading. Rosenstein was sure burning, or at least
smoldering in his seat, as Jordan badgered him about threatening
House staffers by subpoenaing their emails and phone calls…!
The
gotcha moment: “You can’t subpoena a phone call,” Rosenstein
answered, trying to suppress his mirthful smirk… as in, listen to
me, you dim, Rotarian, Buckeye clod, with your worthless JD from the
most obscure law school in the darkest corner of your meth-and
vicodan-addled state… you can’t subpoena a phone call, ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…!
Had
Mr. Jordan been a little more nimble of mind in his Dude role, had he
not, say, downed that Red Bull and Ayahuasca “pick-me-up” before
the committee session, he might have come back smartly at Mr.
Rosenstein with a simple, “…yes, but you can subpoena the records
of phone calls, can’t you?” Schwing. Only the poor clod muffed
it, and Rosenstein’s praetorian guard of attorneys in the seats
behind him joined in the mirthful smirkery, grand fellows of the Deep
State are we, we eat Buckeyes for breakfast!
Now,
Mr. Trey Gowdy (R – SC) is a different breed of porpoise among
congressmen, kind of legal man-eating orca. In look and demeanor, he
comes off as a cross between Atticus Finch and the young feller who
played the banjo so well in the opening scenes of Deliverance. Mr.
Rosenstein didn’t dare lay any mirthful smirky trips on Mr. Gowdy,
who radiated the consolidated wrath of the legislative branch at this
flock of executive branch popinjays. Mr. Gowdy, who is declining to
run for his seat this year, may be bound for bigger things. Some say
he may be the next Attorney General.
In
case you’ve forgotten, Rod Rosenstein is not the Attorney General,
he’s the Deputy AG. His boss is Mr. Jeff Sessions, an elusive
figure for months now in the malarial DC backwaters, like that
Louisiana Swamp Thang that turns up in the fake Bigfoot
documentaries, looming hairily through the night-vision goggles in a
cypress slough. Maybe three or four people have laid eyes on him
since sometime back in April. Better check his office, make sure he
isn’t hunched over face-down in a take-out order of tonkatsu ramen.
It’s
rumored that our president, the Golden Golem of Greatness, can, shall
we say, put the Department of Justice and its subsidiary, the FBI,
out of their current misery by finally firing a few of these
conniving top dawgs. Order Rosenstein to release un-redacted files
he’s been sitting on for a year, and fire his ass for cause when he
refuses. In the case of Mr. Sessions, for Godsake, call the
undertaker.
The
figures most hidden these days go by the names Barack Obama, Hillery
Clinton, Bill Clinton, John Brennan, James Clapper, James Comey,
Loretta Lynch, Huma Abedin, and Debbie Wasserman-Schultz. If or when
the dark, tangled, matrix of “matters” at the FBI ever manage to
get unraveled, these characters will come tumbling out with the yarn,
dropping into the harsh daylight like little squirming larva of
Tineola bisselliella, the common wool moth.
Personally,
I can’t imagine that the mighty mischief at DOJ and the FBI the
past two years was not initially approved before 1/20/17 in some
fashion by Mr. Obama and with his explicit knowledge. There’s
little doubt that the “Steele Dossier” was the “insurance
policy” that FBI Counter-espionage Chief Peter Strzok and FBI
attorney Lisa Page referred to in their famous text exchange about
how to deal with the “terrifying” specter of a possible President
Trump. Debbie Wasserman-Schultz needs to explain under oath how her
humble IT employee, a Pakistani national, become a real estate
millionaire in the DC burbs while servicing, shall we say, her
laptop. Hillary, of course, is like some mythical Cave of Seven Winds
— a boundless dark realm of winged beasts and crawling things.
Loretta Lynch still has some public ‘splainin’ to do about
meeting certain folks on tarmacs. The grand juries are begging to be
convened.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.