Killing Brett Kavanaugh. #IStandWithKavanaugh

I know exactly when I became 100% convinced that Judge Brett Kavanaugh is being slandered.

I’m not gonna lie.  Prior to that moment, I was certainly inclined to believe him as I believe any one of the victim-conservatives who has been vaporized by the Left for the great mortal sin of disagreeing with them, but I was willing to keep an open mind about Christine Blasey Ford’s allegations.  I figured that, if nothing else, it was possible.  After all, the charges are extremely serious, and it is incumbent upon us to seek the truth.

So there I was on the day of the hearing listening to Ms. Blasey Ford give testimony against the man that she claims ruined her life.

It would have been easier to keep an open mind had I not heard her speak.  From my perspective, she was faux-melancholic, sing-songy, glib and a little too gleeful for my heightened sensibilities.  To me, Ford sounded…off-putting.  No, wrong word.  It was more than off-putting.  Her entire testimony reminded me of nails on a chalkboard.  The whole thing was awful.  She was right to want to stay home because as a witness, she sucked.

I will grant this much.  I think perhaps something might have happened to her in the 1980s.  I don’t know what it was.  I don’t know when it was, but I don’t think Brett Kavanaugh was involved, and I have a suspicion that Ford doesn’t think Kavanaugh was involved either.  That’s just my opinion.

Mind you, if Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony had seemed even remotely possible to me, I would have likely cut bait on the nomination in spite of my suspicion that Brett Kavanaugh is innocent because, well, the Left-wing tempests are so nauseatingly ignorant, you just want them to go away, and you often don’t care what you lose in the process to gain some distance.

They’re a lot like arguing with your toddler in the supermarket check out over a MilkyWay™ bar.  You know damned well that you shouldn’t give in, but you’ve got a lady in front of you with a thousand coupons who has just decided to pay for her purchase with her bag full of pennies, and you’ve got three carts stacked up behind you, so you’re pinned, you’re in it for the long haul and all you want is for the screaming to stop.

If you’re a mom, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  It doesn’t matter what you do.  If you ride out the tantrum, you’ve got half the store angry over the noise.  If you give in, the same half is condemning you for spoiling your children and ruining an entire generation in the process.  The emotional health and welfare of the whole world is riding on this one event and you are simply not gonna win.

The thing is – and it may not be today; it may not be next week – eventually, your toddler will push one step too far.  With regard to parenting, I remember that day supremely because I have triplets and there ain’t no meltdown like a triplet meltdown…unless you happen to have quads, and then we’re just quibbling over decibel.

The day was rainy.  The store was busy.  I remember immediately feeling very sorry for myself because I just wanted to get my box of Goldfish™ and a twelve pack of Diet Coke™ and get the hell out of there.

For the kids, it was just part of the process of testing authority, gaining autonomy and getting a candy bar…and trust me, when higher order multiples work together, there’s little that can’t be achieved.  Or so I had trained my children to believe.  I decided on that day that I had no choice but to retrain them, or I was going to have Lord of the Flies on my hands for the rest of my ever loving life.

So I pushed the stroller out of line, and after a brief but stern discussion, they did five tearful push-ups at the end of the checkout area, and then they hyperventilated their apologies to everyone that they had disturbed.  My kids hated me.  Every customer in that store hated me.  Every employee hated me, and I didn’t care.  I had found my limit and I had just set a new rule in the family:

If you humiliate me in public, there will be no place on earth that’s too small, too sacred or too congested for you to drop and give me five push-ups, and if you want to complain about it then we’ll make it ten.  My kids are nearly adults now, but I’m pretty sure they know that the rule still holds.

So back to the topic at hand, as I mentioned and as the radical Left has been trained to expect, I was ready to drop my support of Brett Kavanaugh like the good little pushover that I am.  Then something happened.  Judge Kavanaugh presented sworn testimony about a calendar that he had in his possession, and all bets were off.

That calendar…that smallest of evidence… that embodiment of Kavanaugh’s OCD brought about by his father’s hyper-sentimentality over self-reflection became everything for me.

That calendar represents history – a huge chunk of time that predates, corresponds with and extends past Christine Blasey Ford’s undefined, quasi-chronology of unknown duration that was purposefully and impossibly imprecise so as to be irrefutable.

Without that calendar, Ford has had Carte Blanche to allege Kavanaugh’s sexual assault upon her without the need for corroboration or detail.

For me, what was more extraordinary than the contents of the calendar itself (although, the detail was absolutely stunning – a wonder to behold) was the passion with which Judge Kavanaugh presented his alibi, which happened to be his 17-year-old self.  I mean, it sounds like something out of a flipping movie script.

The passion with which he answered his own question, “Why did you hold on to an old calendar from the 1980s?” it tore my heart apart.  I didn’t cry.  I sobbed.  Because I understood how precious that moment was for him.

His father always kept a calendar, and as Kavanaugh described it, the calendar had two purposes.  It looked forward and backward.  It recorded daily to-dos and he would retroactively correct them to act as a diary as well.  God bless Brett Kavanaugh’s father for not only being obsessive-compulsive but for acting like a real father and teaching his son to be the same.

Without a doubt, that calendar is a miracle.  I’m telling you.

So Christine Blasey Ford shed some tears during her testimony, and that was certainly a hard thing to hear.  Reliving a traumatic event such as a sexual assault is difficult.  As stated above, I think she probably did experience such an event.  That she (in my opinion) has transferred her trauma to Kavanaugh doesn’t negate the authenticity of her pain.

By the way?  Kavanaugh also wept.

Kavanaugh’s tears were vastly different, however.  His tears were excruciating, wounded.  The pain that came through was like that of a caged animal being tortured. Like someone who must defend or die.

Under Article 1 Section 6 of the US Constitution, US Congressmen and Senators hold special privilege with respect to libel and slander.  They can say what they want during sessions.  As a result, their language can be extreme or even knowingly false.  Now, even if you didn’t know that they were legally allowed to lie during sessions, you noticed, so this shouldn’t be a surprise.  But what exactly protects us from them telling those lies?

Ah, see?  That’s why I say that politics and religion are the same.

You’ve got a group of people who have been temporarily provided authority to legislate and govern.  The authority by which they govern is the very US Constitution that they increasingly hold in contempt, which suggests that they see themselves as not too awfully beholden to any of it, which definitionally means we’re slipping from Republic into a totalitarian regime even though those representatives have sworn to uphold the Constitution.  The argument is very circular and there seems to be nothing that puts the breaks on the spin until you remember that the Founders based the Constitution on the Ten Commandments – one of which is:

Thou shall bear no false witness. 

Right.  So what is that even supposed to mean?  How many people even understand it?  And yet the Commandment is very precise in all respects.

  • All falsehoods in lawsuits are forbidden.  Period.  Even if the guy you think is bad seems to be winning.
  • All false testimony OUT of court is forbidden.  Period.  Even if the guy is a ratfink that deserves to be punished.
  • All detraction is forbidden.  What does detraction mean?  It means to diminish the worth or value of an achievement.  That means you can’t talk trash or tear someone down.
  • All flattery is forbidden.  You can’t fudge around the edges to get what you want.
  • All hypocrisy is forbidden.  You can’t say you believe one thing and then do a different thing.
  • Judges must – by God’s law – judge according to the law.  So any representative that would block a nomination because the judge would use the Constitution as his point of reference?  That representative is committing a grave sin.  Any judge that would ignore the document that they swore to uphold is committing a grave sin.
  • Witnesses must give truthful testimony.  Period.
  • Lawyers must be guided by the love of justice.  Justice is defined as the firm resolve to render each his due.
  • All must speak truthfully and with clarity.
  • One may not lay the blame of his own falsehood on others. ie “so-and-so talked me into it.”
  • One may not lay the blame of his own falsehood on frailty, habit or bad example. ie “the Devil made me do it.”
  • One may not lay the blame on convenience, amusement or advantage. ie “I lied because it was easy, fun or I had to win.”

As with all matters of morality and governance, we notice the big stuff when it’s already too late.  Robert Bork, Clarence Thomas, Brett Kavanaugh.  The time to stop the big stuff from happening was when it was little stuff.  Welcome to Lord of the Flies.

And that means that you can anticipate the midterm elections with the mindset of pulling your representatives out of line and reminding them who the boss actually is or you can give in again and see what delightful tantrum they have cooked up for you next time.

As for me, I’ll be voting.




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