[Note: This letter was originally published in The Agenda #15]
Dear President Bush,
So I guess it's official, Samuel Alito is your man for the Supreme Court. OK. That's your prerogative, I guess. I mean, I don't want to tell you how to do your job here, but I just thought ... well, I don't know, I kind of thought that maybe after the whole Harriet Miers thing didn't work out that you would ... I don't know, kind of look my way. I'm not saying that I necessarily expected the nomination per se, but I just feel like it would have been nice to know that you at least gave it some thought, that maybe I stood a chance. The least you could have done was give me a little heads up so I didn't have to find out from the media. That's not too much to ask, is it? A nice quick phone call from you, or even one of your underlings would have made it seem like you tried at least. I could accept that. You could have maybe had Andy Card or even Rove give me a little jingle. "Sorry, kid, you're out. We just couldn't do it." I could live with that.
I understand there was a lot of pressure on you to pick someone with some experience, after Harry was trampled for not having any. I'll grant it that I am not, nor have I ever been a judge, or a lawyer or anything like that; I don't even have a Master's degree. I know that. I don't feel inadequate because of it. Hey, Alito's got a lot of experience; he's a better candidate than me-this I know. I don't harbor any ill will towards the guy; the better man won. So I guess I can't really fault you for picking him over me, but I can't say that it doesn't hurt. It hurts because qualifications don't speak to the heart, Mr. President. I see now that I was wrong when I thought that meant something to you.
Be honest with me, was it Cheney? Was he the one who told you to pass me over? Call it wishful thinking, but I just can't imagine you being so callous without some sort of outside interference. I know how much pressure he puts on you sometimes, how he can kind of intimidate you with that way of his. Quite frankly I wouldn't want Dick upset with me either; I know how cold he can be when he doesn't get what he wants. I'm sure he had some objections to me and he probably would have made the West Wing a really uncomfortable place to be for a few days if you picked me, but I just feel like if you would stand up to him for once it would really set him straight. He only walks all over you because you let him, Mr. President. You can't go on letting him do this to you; look where it's gotten you. There's the mess in Iraq, the CIA leak scandal, and now he's come between us. He has, hasn't he? It's OK to tell me; I won't let him know that I know.
Look, what's done is done. You went with Alito, and now we just have to see how it plays out, but if another one of those dinosaurs on the Court kicks the bucket, don't forget me, OK? Let's be honest, Stevens will be eighty-six in April. Ginsberg, Kennedy, Scalia-all in their seventies. Not exactly a spry bunch. You've still got more than two years left in your term; I'm sure one of those coots can manage to fall down a flight of stairs or something in that much time. Keep my number close by.
If that phone call comes, I'll be ready. I'm a dark horse candidate; they're not going to see me coming. I have no judicial record to look back on; Specter and Leahy have nothing on me. That frees me up to be whatever kind of candidate you need me to be. Trying to solidify your conservative base? I'll gladly strike down Roe v. Wade like a stupid, dead baby. I'll go so far to the right James Dobson will have to strain his neck to see me. I'll even uphold the right of a father to stone his daughter to death for bringing shame on her family by having an abortion. But what if you decide to play a little to the left to avoid a big donnybrook with the Democrats? I'm still your man. I'll treat Roe v. Wade like a sacred cow and I'm a Hindu. You want a fierce supporter of abortion rights? Hell, give me a coat hanger, I'll get out there and perform a couple myself. See what I'm willing to do for you? Whatever you need me to be, I can be that. Don't forget. One bad case of pneumonia, and I'll have my questionnaire filled out before Stevens' body turns cold.
So just remember, I'm not mad. I swear I'm not. It just hurts a little, you know? It's just that piercing, searing pain in your heart that you get when some Judas betrays you in a heartless, cowardly manner just because he took a little dip in the polls, that's all. It's no big deal; I'll get over it. I wish you luck with Alito and all, but I just know he's not right for you. He's not going to give you the kind of rulings you really want. He won't. I know he won't. I bet you he drifts on you, just like Souter did to your dad. Watch. It will never work out; I can feel it. Deep down in your heart, you know it too. I know I got a little crazy about the whole John Roberts thing, but we're past that now, right? Right? But this Alito thing, it won't work out. Why won't you believe me? It WON'T. Just watch. You'll see that I'm right. Oh yeah, and you'll have a big, fat "I told you so" coming your way, mister. But I'll be here if anybody else dies. I'm still there for you if you need me, OK? Just call me. Don't forget. Promise.
Yours Truly,
John Taraborelli