MILWAUKEE—If I were an embattled Supreme Court nominee, nurtured from birth in privilege and nurtured professionally in the warm precincts of wingnut welfare terrariums, and I wanted to prove myself to be independent and impartial, I'd certainly find a way to argue for my independence and impartiality in a newspaper owned by Rupert Murdoch and on an opinion page that has been on the high side of batshit crazy since 1979.

Brett Kavanaugh went home, finally, to the warm embrace of The Wall Street Journal, which, during his golden days of ratfcking for Ken Starr, was every leaker's favorite storm drain. And what a performance it was. Truly, this may be the most impressive combination of dishonesty and self-pity since the last time Richard Nixon—Manolo! More cottage cheese and more Scotch!—dined alone. From CNN , because I'm not paying for a WSJ opinion piece.

I was very emotional last Thursday, more so than I have ever been. I might have been too emotional at times. I know that my tone was sharp, and I said a few things I should not have said. I hope everyone can understand that I was there as a son, husband and dad. I testified with five people foremost in my mind: my mom, my dad, my wife, and most of all my daughters.

That's all you really need to sup from this foul bowl of treacle. First of all, there's plenty of evidence that Kavanaugh was more emotional back in the day, especially when he had drink taken.

But, second, and most important, the whole notion that this was a man pushed to his limits in the witness chair and lashing out at a world of tormentors is belied by the first two lines of his tirade last week. Remember this?

I wrote it myself yesterday afternoon and evening. No one has seen a draft, or it, except for one of my former law clerks. This is my statement.

At the time, I thought this oddly reminiscent of Dr. Ann Elk's theory of the brontosaurus, and nothing more than that. It took on new importance when Kavanaugh went full snowflake in the WSJ. This was not an emotional outburst and everybody, including Kavanaugh, knew it. It was a carefully planned piece of performative outrage, encouraged according to all reports by the White House. It was approximately as spontaneous as this week's MMA card. So the very premise of his WSJ non-apology is as much of a lie as his silly explanation for what being a "Renate Alumnius" really meant.

Maybe he is a good carpool dad. Maybe he can coach up girls basketball and is good to the postman at Christmas. None of that matters. History shows that, when Brett Kavanaugh sees something he wants, whether that's trouble in a bar, or Vince Foster's files, or Florida's electoral votes in 2000, or—allegedly—Dr. Christine Blasey Ford's body, it's safer not to try and get in his way. Put that temperament on the Supreme Court, and god save the republic.

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Charles P. Pierce Charles P Pierce is the author of four books, most recently Idiot America, and has been a working journalist since 1976.

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