This whole thing has become so through-the-looking-glass that I halfway wonder if the following conversation isn’t too far removed from actual history:
Bush: Harriet, we really need a hardline justice on the Supreme Court so we can throw a bone to the godfloggers who have been our most loyal constituency.
Miers: Oh, yes, George! You’re the best President ever.
Bush: Problem is, our political capital is shrinking, so I’m not sure we can ram a troglodyte through as successfully as we might have six months ago.
Miers: You’re right, George! You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known.
Bush: So I’m thinking we need a decoy, a sacrifice, somebody we can throw to the wolves, and then ride the backlash to put in the guy we really want.
Miers: How clever! And all for the good of the country. You’re such a patriot.
Bush: How’d you like the job?
Miers: …
Bush: I’m going to nominate you for the vacancy.
Miers: …Me? Really?
Bush: See, here’s the thing. It’s win-win. If you get confirmed, then you’re a Supreme Court Justice.
Miers: Gosh.
Bush: But what’s probably going to happen is that the Senators won’t see what a good, smart person you are. They’re going to get all oogedy-boogedy about how you’re my own personal attorney, how you’ve never been a judge, and they’ll go dumpster-diving in Texas for past shenanigans. And if they reject you, then I get to complain about the obstructionist legislature, the American people will rally to support me, and I’ll have more power to nominate somebody better.
Miers: “Better”?
Bush: Well, not better. You know what I mean. Better in the sense of better for the thing, not, y’know, the other way. The bad way. Right?
Miers: Uh…
Bush: Don’t worry, I’ll fight for you. No matter how it turns out, I’ll make it look good. If we win, then you’re on the Court. But even if it looks like you’ll get voted down, I have to look like I’m fighting for you all the way. Got to make it look good.
Miers: <quivering lip>
Bush: Come on, it won’t be that bad. It’ll be a few weeks that won’t be much fun, but then everybody will forget about you. It’ll be a footnote. And I’ll keep you around, I promise.
Miers: You promise?
Bush: I do. Trust me.
Miers: Oh… kay. I guess. Sure, George, let’s do it. You can count on me.
Bush: I knew I could. Now drop and give me some sugar.
Miers: You want me to take my teeth out?
Yeah, I know, it probably didn’t happen this way. This is probably too subtle even for the political manipulators these guys have demonstrated themselves to be. It’s certainly easier to chalk this up to a combination of (a) Bush’s crippling isolation in the center of ass-kissing yes-men, and (b) ineptitude.
But it does fit the facts. And it’s fun to think about.
Except the toothless sugar. That’s just oogy.