[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
