There is something undeniably cozy about John Kerry being forced into a public appeal to pay his legal bills in the current Carlton Sherwood, "Stolen Honor," defamation conspiracy flap.
Yes, I can imagine John Kerry sitting in a comfortable camp chair, clad in his favorite flight jacket and ReVo sunglasses, accompanied by a loyal yellow lab named Huck, outside the Haymarket subway station in Boston, behind an opened instrument case speckled with loose coins, sonorously playing his Oboe for relief from any hint of personal debt.
John Kerry, in a sad parody of General Macarthur, has found that old Winter Soldiers never die, in fact, they won't even fade away properly.
Nope, Mr. Kerry just can't seem to shake his infamous words--a far cry from Macarthur's famous promise--uttered, after serving three months in combat, about the horrific war crimes he and his unkempt compadres in the Winter Soldiers alleged they committed, "on a day to day basis with the full awareness of officers at all levels of command."
He must have been busy, indeed, on the riverine patrols in his PCF to have thrown himself full time into so much unconscionable mayhem so quickly in a foreshortened tour.
Then, on national television, in the bright lights he has grown so accustomed to, for the eternal bemusement of that great big league talent scout for the radical left field, Senator Kennedy of Massachusetts, and to a similarly amused Democratic Congress, who had prayed so long for his coming, Mr. Kerry recalled other, more frightening scenes, each reminiscent of Dante's inferno and a particular ring of hell.
Mr. Kerry, in that somber, all too familiar tone of great intellectual umbrage, ticked off the manifold sins he and his ilk visited on the people of Vietnam, insisting that, "they had...cut off heads cut off limbs, blown up bodies razed villages, in fashion reminiscent of Genghis Khan ," in their mad send up to Joseph Conrad, to be copied later by Francis Coppola, to the eternal damnation of the vets.
and now Mr. Kerry, joining that long gray marching line of downcast Democrats, is soliciting money from the general populace for the protection of his tarnished honor and broken reputation from a defamation lawsuit filed by Carlton Sherwood, the producer of "Stolen Honor," a film chronicling Mr. Kerry's once painfully shabby behavior.
Mr. Sherwood, Roger aranoff avers in his recent article, Senator John "The Censor" Kerry, that Mr. Kerry, if one can possibly entertain a belief that a formerly fictive Winter Soldier and a sitting US Senator is capable of such machinations, was a member of a conspiracy to "discredit and silence" Mr. Sherwood and his movie through a pattern of grievous "falsehoods."
Is it even conceivable that Mr. Kerry--with such a vast, vivid and immensely colorful imagination, which he paraded so successfully before Congress in 1971, and which has been dragged out so many times for us to view in the intervening years, much as Punch and Judy still serve to entertain audiences --could belong to a cabal to knowingly defame a man for proffering a well researched version of the truth, and trundle out "falsehoods?"
One's mind reels at the substance of such a charge and recoils at the true Mariana Trench of Mr. Kerry's angst.
and yet, the primary question remains, why would John Forbes Kerry, a billionaire, scion of one of Boston's oldest families, a former Presidential candidate who rests upon an expansive war chest, fall back on a public subscription to pay his legal bills?
Okay, so a billionaire Democrat falls flat on his face and calls on the public to pay his profligate proxies.
But Mr. Kerry hasn't really fallen, he can snow board, ski and wind surf.
What I don't understand is that rank and file Democrats will now rush to his aid and ship in the dough, probably in the hundreds of thousands, to a guy that should stew in his own juice for his past behavior.
So, like the lies once told, which resonate and necessitate greater lies, Mr. Kerry is caught in a never ending cycle of paying for protection from his sordid past.
Come to think of it, isn't that the foundation of the Democratic Great Society?
Having everybody else pay for something you think you ought to have?
ah, there's nothing like the shining hubris of a billionaire's self-defense fund.
Shh, I hear the distant braying of a jack-ass entering a private counting house.