John G. Roberts---they think they have the right man here. They think he's a good man. Everybody respects him. Harvard. Dignity. Respect. Decent. A good MAN--a MAN of extraordinary accomplishment. He's going to get a vote. First in his class. A MAN "beyond question" He's as good a confirmed.
Cute little kids. A proud wife in pink.
Did Aaron Brown really say "Kids couldn't get and cuter than that. Who could judge him too harshly." Can anyone spare me a half gallon of Vodka?
(Never mind his work with Starr. Forget that he was a major player in support of the adjudication of Geo. W. Bush as President of the US. Forget that nonsense back when he was just a lawyer for hire saying that Row v. Wade was decided wrongly--that was just his client's decision.)
He and Geo. W. Bush looked real good on the stage tonight.
The subject is changed. The media is all aglow with respect and acceptance. He's a solid Conservative but not a polarizing figure.
He's another Disk Cheney. Remember when Cheney was the "good news" about the Bush administration. A respected MAN--someone we could trust--a MAN who would be the "grown-up," making sure nothing wild would happen (like making up evidence to build a case to start a war that will eat our children and our income for, maybe, the next 15 years).
This MAN will be confirmed. The media has confirmed him already.
The Geo. W. Bush was adjudicated President of the U.S. may have been the end of this nation as we know it.
Some of you may not remember the day when, after a MAN planted a child in a woman's body (consensually or not), it was just her tough luck if she did not want it stay there.
I remember:
--I remember my childhood friend who was 13 who almost died giving birth to a child who leg was malformed (probably, the Dr. said, by the girdles she wore to hide the pregnancy). I don't know where she is now. She was lost into a world of trailer parks and grinding poverty while I went on to college.
-- I remember my childhood two other friends who left school and married because we did not have sex--we got married.
-- I remember my childhood the surreal, bizarre night when (as a student observer) I went with an emergency rescue team into the basement of an awful little row house in Birmingham where a 13-year-old black child still crouched (so cold and lost) over the infant and placenta that she had just delivered while her mother continued to scream, "I didn't even know she was pregnant."
--I will also remember, for the rest of my life, my one and only ever night with the Birmingham ER squad and I tell the story, not because I expect anyone to believe the cliché echo of Elvis' "In the Ghetto" but because I did live it and it still haunts me--I remember the ambulance stopping with sirens and lights on in the middle of a 3 AM Birmingham intersection, while responding to the emergency "We didn't even know she was pregnant call" to intervene and stop two cops who were beating the shit out of a 18-year-old black kid. The police officers thanked the ER guys for helping them to deal with the kid who was "resisting arrest" and, later at the hospital; one of the officers screamed at me and threatened my life because I was "staring" at him. I was staring at him. I was trying desperately, with my eyes, to say all of the things that I had not yet found the courage to say with my mouth and I guess I was successful because, had the ER guys not dragged my away, yelling at me for being impossible, he would most certainly have pulled out a night stick and beat me to death for staring at him, while I stood holding that tiny newborn baby under my shirt--trying to warm him against my skin because, back then, nobody in Birmingham bothered to turn on a heat light or to prepare a warm reception for a tiny, cold, unanticipated, newborn who had been delivered onto a concrete basement floor on the wrong side of town. I do understand that it's all to Elvis for belief. I don't know if I believe it. But my eyes remember what they saw and, under my shirt, my skin remembers that cold, cold, tiny infant. And I still cry for the baby, the girl child who bore him, and the young man who drew the wrath of the Birmingham police.
I look at Geo W. Bush, proud of his "good MAN." I watch and I remember so much more. More than I can write. Much more than you would ever read.
I see John G Roberts, the good MAN, and I see the future, and I just cry.