Can you help a brother out?

On Friday, Rove was spared an indictment; Scooter Libby was hit with five counts for perjury, obstruction of justice, and false statements to a federal investigator. Most media reports I’ve read to date have painted Libby as a sympathetic figure. Even so, it’s difficult for me to muster much pity. It is not so much that I disdain the White House’s hardball political tactics; the Bush administration, at least for me, has lost its capacity to shock. Back in 2000, Rove orchestrated a direct call campaign in advance of the South Carolina Republican primary which accused McCain of having an out-of-wedlock child by a black woman, notwithstanding the fact that it was a matter of public knowledge that McCain’s dark-skinned daughter was a Bangladeshi orphan whom he and his wife had adopted. So no, the Sopranos-style outing of Plame was par de course for these assholes, and not something that I felt all too antagonized about.

Libby brought this on himself. I haven’t personally read the indictment because that shit is boring; I’ve relied on the integrity of our media to give me the straight dope. Based on those reports—and leaving aside the fact that the indictment is only the government’s side of the story—Libby is a monumental idiot. Testifying before a grand jury is some serious shit. If you’re going to perjure yourself, you need to think these things through if you plan on getting away with it. Instead, Libby gave a version of events that was plainly contradicted by Russert, Miller, Novak, and probably Karl Rove. It was amateurish, and completely inconsistent with Libby’s reputation for pain-staking meticulousness. The only possible explanation would be Libby’s misguided belief that the reporters were never going to testify before a federal grand jury, but even that’s moronic. Federal law doesn’t recognize a reporter’s privilege—Miller argued the issue all the way to the Supreme Court and was rebuffed at every juncture. Well, what should he have done? He could have done what Rove probably did—“Yes, I leaked; no, I didn’t know that doing so would be a violation of the espionage act.” Libby would have lost his job, but he wouldn’t be facing a year in prison and a seven-figure legal bill.

If you're interested, I believe some of his friends are starting a charitable fund for his impending legal costs. Which reminds me of a sentiment that often comes to mind when I see certain kinds of panhandlers in Argyle. A white, establishment power-broker looking for a hand-out? That's not the way the good Lord meant for things to be.

"I would never join a club that would have me as a member."

Claire and I went to Everest on Friday. I had never been, and I thought that "dinner jacket preferred" meant suit coat, pink shirt, and jeans. Claire wore her law skool clothes. After arriving, we discovered that every douchebag in the dining room was wearing either a dinner dress or a bonfire of the vanities blazer/suit pant ensemble. Hah. We were shunted off to a less distinguished table and it took me 10-15 minutes to get a bourbon, but not before I was carded. Lovely.

I am obsessed with this woman.

I don't know if I owe this to my hatred for Bush or my elitist streak, but I can't stop bitching about her. Miers can't write for shit. Some excerpts from her monthly Texas Bar Journal columns in the 90's:

''We have to understand and appreciate that achieving justice for all is in jeopardy before a call to arms to assist in obtaining support for the justice system will be effective. Achieving the necessary understanding and appreciation of why the challenge is so important, we can then turn to the task of providing the much needed support.''

''An organization must also implement programs to fulfill strategies established through its goals and mission. Methods for evaluation of these strategies are a necessity. With the framework of mission, goals, strategies, programs, and methods for evaluation in place, a meaningful budgeting process can begin.''

''When consensus of diverse leadership can be achieved on issues of importance, the greatest impact can be achieved."

Waterville, Me. Where dreams of Harvard go to die.

I’ve wasted an hour or so of my time debating whether or not to respond to this, so I might as well. My productivity, or lack thereof, pains me but I cannot resist. My prior post suggested in jest that I may as well be next in line for a Supreme Court slot. This joke is an old one, at least in the blogosphere. In truth, Miers is much more qualified than me. Although I win the clash of the law degrees by a wide margin, she is 60 and I am 29 so it should not be a surprise that her professional track record is heftier than mine. Brushing aside the fact that: (1) Miers went to a second-rate school; (2) Miers manned a firm that while large, is not a national player; and (3) I have a constitutional philosophy (though inchoate) and Miers apparently has none at all, Miers vs. Me is a rout. We all understand that, that’s why the post was intended to be a joke. Wayne and Claire reliably comment because I suspect they’re the only nerdos I know that actually give two shits about the issue. I respond. The comments are snarky, and concern academia, politics, and business’s selective application of the term, underrepresented minority. Meaning Asians are shit out of luck. Then, an anonymous poster states the following:

“you are wrong. the definition of URM is the white man who has to settle for colby because his spot at harvard was taken by black people.”

I didn’t appreciate the initial declarative. I try to keep this under wraps, but much of the terribly arrogant fifth grader that I was managed to survive my adolescence and young adulthood. When it comes to certain things in life, I consider myself rarely, if ever, wrong. But I am an adult and after my instinctive reaction passed, my resolve to privately declare the poster a dumbass and leave it at that waned. The truth is, I sympathize with the thrust of the poster’s statement, if not the exact way in which it was articulated.

I think we can all agree that this is a galling thing to say, particularly if said by a white person. Perhaps galling isn’t the right word. How about, inappropriate for a professional setting, or for that matter, any circumstance in which a modicum of political correctness is required. I personally hate that shit. The fact is, white indignation over affirmative action is a widely-held sentiment, and honest discourse on the topic requires that it not only be expressed, but addressed. It’s too easy to retort, “fuck you and the six centuries you’ve spent oppressing us, whitey.” That sort of casual racism towards whites isn’t any less deplorable because it’s being leveled by the nominally oppressed.

A little aside on political correctness: we’ve been recruiting for our summer program over the last month and the recruiting committee meets weekly to vet candidates. It’s a large committee and since it’s populated by lawyers, the meetings aren’t short of blunt appraisals of candidate worth. But nearly all of these attorneys turn into willy-nilly pussies when it comes to matters of race. We had an international student from China who expressed an interest in litigation. He doesn’t go to an elite school, but his school’s not so shitty that we’re beyond his reach. Being a Chinese international student, his spoken English was crap. Nobody said this, but it was easily inferred. His interviewers opined that he “wasn’t a good fit for the firm,” “may take a lot of work,” and “would probably be better served by a firm with a more developed international transactional practice.” This irked me, so I cut to the chase and asked, “Does he speak English well?” This sparked a second round of hemming and hawing: “Well, it’s not ideal but he’s certainly fluent,” or “He has an accent, but that’s not what I meant by a good fit.” Finally, a lit associate a year above me point blank said, “Given his accent and less than ideal command of the language, I don’t think he’ll be as good as other candidates with similar qualifications, but without those same limitations. That’s why I recommended that we deny him an offer.” Hallelujah. I concurred, thus signaling that the only asian in the room had given his assent that there wasn’t anything racially untoward about dinging this guy based on a fair and realistic appraisal of how he would fare at our firm. The Man (and his liberal sensibilities) could rest easy tonight. Imagine that. Not speaking English so good isn’t a desired trait in a litigator.

I need to work. I’ll finish this later. Hopefully, I’ll actually get to my point.

Weak.

This morning, in the NYT:

Documents Show Supreme Court Nominee's Close Ties to Bush

Harriet E. Miers found him "cool," said he and his wife were "the greatest!" and told him: "You are the best governor ever."

I wonder if it's too late for me to get on the gravy train. I’m an underrepresented minority on the Supreme Court. I went to law school. I’ve practiced at a large firm. I only lack Miers’ long and distinguished paper trail of junior high school fan mail.